


Vergissmeinnicht

by lanjingyeets



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Grieving, Guilt, Induced coma, M/M, Memory Loss, Porn with Feelings, Suppressed Feelings, fake flatmates, holding secrets, minor Hunk/Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 17:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 48,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanjingyeets/pseuds/lanjingyeets
Summary: (n.) “forget-me-not”; a plant with small, five-lobed blue, pink or white flowers with yellow centres (in 15th-century Germany, it was supposed that the wearers of the flower would not be forgotten by their lovers)Shiro’s mind is a blank page. When he wakes up after a car accident and he realizes he has no memory whatsoever of his previous life, that’s when he realizes that he’s gonna work hard to discover who he was. The world around him is but a twirling chaos, filled with noises and colors and voices, some of them taking him far away in the past, some holding him down onto the ground.And then there’s Keith. Keith, who’s beautiful and kind, and has a storm in his eyes, and Shiro thinks he might fall in love with him even in this new, scary life of his. Keith , who welcomes him back to life and doesn’t leave his side. Keith, who knows, and Keith who lies, and hides in his closet together with his skeletons. Because the truth is scary and obscure, and Keith’s truth weights more than the celestial sphere supported by Atlas’ shoulders.But Shiro is not afraid, and he wants to know it all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is!! My very first Sheith BigBang participation.  
> Thank you so much to my artists [Mel](http://that-meiko-girl.tumblr.com/post/177949150366/for-petitkeefs-fic-vergissmeinnicht-its-a) and [Lucia](http://lucia-ik.tumblr.com/post/177954166004/my-art-piece-for-petitkeef-sbb-fic)  
> And thank you so much to my beta Jay! I wouldn't have been able to give you all this wonderful fic otherwise!!!  
> I just hope you enjoy this fic!! Have a nice time reading~

(n.) _"forget-me-not"_ ; a plant with small, five-lobed blue, pink or white flowers with yellow centres (in 15th-century Germany, it was supposed that the wearers of the flower would not be forgotten by their lovers)

 

❋❋❋

 

The first thing he remembers when he wakes up, is white; intense, blinding and sharp, it cuts through the small gap between the curtains and lands on his eyes. He blinks, and small dark dots appear on the black of his closed eyelids and stay there, fluttering in front of his eyes.

The second thing he remembers is the beeping of… something, that he can’t see; his head is too heavy to move, and his eyes hurt when he tries to divert his gaze. The sound is continuous and repetitive, it sticks in his head and doesn't stop - _beep_ , a pause, _beep_ , a pause, again and again.

Then there is the sensation of a rough blanket that covers his chest and rubs against his fingertips, and a sour taste in his mouth that he can’t explain, and he feels a tube where he is sure there should not be one, something tight wrapped around his head and over his nose.

His head hurts and he can’t move. That is all he knows.

He hears a noise coming from somewhere next to him, a screeching and a gasp, the ticking of something light hitting the floor. He blinks again and again and there is more movement, something cold covers his hand and he hears something, a sound low and thick that covers the annoying beeping and repeats the same and same noises, but he doesn't understand what it means, what it is trying to say, and there is something dark that hovers over him and blocks the light, and purple lights that shine, and _oh_ , it is a face, and it is eyes and something shiny falling from them, and it is a mouth that is moving and forming the same sounds he could not understand before, but now sound a little clearer.

_Canyuuheerme Sheewo dewuknowereyuare Sheewo dewuheermeplis dewuheermeplis_ , again and again. He closes his eyes and there is the cold thing pressing against his cheek, while the sounds grow louder and louder. Then he falls into darkness, and the world turns silent once again.

 

He wakes up again feeling sick, cold and warm touching his face and eyes and there is someone mumbling far away, a sound different from the one he vaguely remembers from before.

The cold thing moves and there is a face in front of his, no purple eyes, no dark hair, but the mouth still moves.

«…u he… r me? Ca… y… hea… me?»

Always the same words repeated, the cold thing moves to his chest and fingers move around his wrist. The voices in the background seem so far and someone snaps, just to be shushed, and his eyes flicker weakly to the man bent over him.

«… H…»

Air passes through his dry lips, and every try is useless; the weird tube is still there, he notices, and his first thought is to take it off, but his hands won’t move, no matter how hard he tries. The man lets go of his wrist and moves his mouth slowly, his dark eyes fixed in his.

«Can you hear me? Blink two times if you can.»

He hears him, and slowly he manages to blink. Once. Twice. The man smiles briefly and stands, says something to the owners of the other voices he heard before, and it is silent.

The man - _doctor_ \- asks him other questions, tells him to blink twice for "yes" and thrice for "no", while a young woman checks his vitals and notes everything down on a notebook.

«Do you know where you are?»

He doesn't.

«Do you know why you are here?»

He doesn't.

«Do you know what day it is?»

He doesn't.

«Do you remember your name?»

A pause. The longest he has witnessed ever since he woke up, the scariest, and it feels like everyone in the room is holding their breaths. Only then does he notice the purple eyes that look at him from far away, a small mouth pressed in a thin line and shoulders trying to hide their trembling.

He doesn't remember.

He slowly blinks three times, and sees the world inside those purple irises being crushed in the matter of a second.

 

They tell him that his name is Takashi Shirogane. They tell him that he is twenty-nine years old and that he is a student in an art academy. They tell him that he had a car accident and drove off a cliff, something breaking, dirt and rocks falling over him and a fire. They tell him that he was in a coma and connect him to a ventilator - which explains the tube thing. They tell him everything and they tell him nothing, his brain refuses to keep the new information inside and it all slips between his fingers, just like sand.

The boy with purple eyes is not there when they tell him his whole life; a nurse had accompanied him outside after he had broken down crying.

Somehow, he feels glad. He could not stand being under that broken gaze much longer.

The doctor tells him that he will have to stay in the hospital for a while, at least until his injuries are healed and his memory is starting to come back. Post traumatic amnesia is intrusive and stressful, he says, but it will get better. _He_ will get better.

They leave him with a headache and a notebook filled with the information he had been told that day. He still feels numb, his movements are sloppy and barely there, but when he tries to move his fingers he is able to do it.

Then he is alone, back inside his head, filled with void as there is nothing he can grasp, no memories, no thoughts, nothing but a string of questions left unanswered.

When he looks outside he sees the dark sky, the few stars that managed to win against light pollution shining more than anything else.

He feels drowsy, his headache turns into a dull throbbing and he slips away into unconsciousness.

 

The next morning he wakes up and doesn't recognize the place he is in, but when he tries to move, his body doesn't respond. His head doesn't hurt anymore, nor do his eyes as he looks around and drinks in aspects of the room. White, so much white, beeping, machines, machines connected to his body, noises from outside, hospital.

Why is he in a hospital? What happened to him?

He tries to move, something instinctive, but his body won't respond, there is something holding him down and something in his mouth that he can’t remove.

His eyes run from one side of the room to the other while he tries, _begs_ to remember, but nothing will come at him, nothing, nothing…

And then he sees him; the purple-eyed boy is back inside the hospital room, curled up in a chair close to the bed with his head lolling every now and then above his knees.

Shiro looks at him, speechless, chest heaving and breathing through his mouth, he wonders why he is there, what he is doing here.

A nurse comes inside and smiles politely as she sees him awake.

«Good morning! I'm Nancy, I will be taking care of you while you stay here» she says, then eyes the strange boy on the chair and her expression softens.

«I see you didn’t wake up alone» she hums, and moves closer.

Shiro can’t answer and just looks at her, then at the boy, and his gaze rests on him, while he listens distractedly to the nurse checking his vitals on the machines connected to his body.

When she sees where he is looking she smiles.

«He always stays the night» she murmurs, careful not to wake the boy. «Has been doing that since you were taken in. Sometimes we had to send him away, or he would risk fainting for the lack of sleep.»

Shiro manages a hum around the ventilator. The nurse moves and now there is a satisfied expression on her face, as she eyes the notes she has taken.

«His name is Keith» she says then, and Shiro looks at her.

«I’ll be back with a change of clothes. The doctor will be here as soon as possible to run some tests, see if they can remove the ventilator and all. Please, don't try to take any of those tubes out. You are safe here, you won't be hurt.»

She leaves the room and the door closes and creaks; it is then that Keith wakes up, jolting on the chair, eyes wide open.

Shiro watches as he looks around and then turns to him, a stunned expression on his young face as he sees him. Keith opens his mouth to say something but then closes it again, fingers curling in his lap around something Shiro can’t quite recognize.

There is silence for a while, just them observing each other. Shiro notices the few strands that managed to slip out of Keith’s messy ponytail, the depth of his eyes that look purpler here and then more lilac there, notices the dark rings around them and the reddened edges.

He cried.

«Hi, Shiro» Keith finally manages to say, his voice is barely a whisper, hoarse and frail. Shiro blinks and lowers his gaze to Keith’s hands, clutched around a small handkerchief.

When he raises his head, Keith is sitting almost on the edge of the chair, a hopeful light in his eyes and a tug at the corners of his lips. But it is quick to disappear, and Keith sinks into the chair, gaze low.

«You don’t remember me» he says in an incredulous tone, he runs a hand through his hair and frees even more strands from the now loose hair band. «You don’t remember me… you _can’t_. I keep… forgetting that» he says, and suddenly  he looks small, broken.

Shiro looks at him and feels guilty, and he can’t explain himself why.

His mind is still a mess, thoughts and empty dreams and scarce memories floating around in a knot so tight it’s difficult to understand what is real and what is not. He tries, _tries_ to remember what happened, why he is there, tries to understand why Keith looks so helpless as he angrily wipes tears from his cheeks, but it is all useless.

The handkerchief falls open on Keith’s knees, and Shiro sees small blue flowers embroidered in a corner, and a golden writing he can’t quite see. «W…t Th…t» he manages to say, voice barely a breath. The sound he makes, almost a screech, scares him.

Keith raises his head and follows the line of his gaze. When he sees where he is watching, his face turns cold and angry, and he crushes the handkerchief in his hand.

«You should know about this already» he murmurs, and slaps a hand against his forehead with a shivering « _fuck_ », as he stands and walks to the window.

He stands there for a while, taking deep breaths with trembling shoulders, a hand obstinately pressed against his mouth. Shiro just wants to sit, wants to take that damn thing - the _ventilator_ \- off and ask him what's wrong, why he is scared and why he is there, who he is to him.

He remembers his name, though. He remembers it.

«K'ff…» is all he is able to say in the end, and the boy turns around, eyes big and so, so beautiful. «Y-you just…» he stutters, then he quickly moves to the bed, bending over him, Shiro looks at him and wishes to move back, wishes for him to step away _and he doesn't know why_.

«You said my name» Keith says in a broken voice, and grips the sheets so strong his knuckles turn white. «You said my name! You… how… who…»

Shiro doesn't know. The memory is already gone, a faceless person telling him the name of the small boy who now looks as if Shiro has told him the best thing in the world, when in reality he just barely managed to say a couple letters.

New tears form in Keith's eyes and he shuts them, moving his hands to grab Shiro's. His fingers are cold, his palms small, and they are trembling as they try not to grip too hard, almost as if Shiro could break. Keith watches him in adoration, and Shiro feels… _glad_ to have made him that happy with just a name.

«You will get better, you will get so much better» Keith murmurs, and moves closer, just a little, and his cheeks don't seem as pale as they did before, and there's a beautiful light that makes his eyes shine just a little more.

That same light breaks when the door of the room creaks and new people come inside, and as that light dies, so does his smile. A bitter expression takes its place, then sadness, then anger. He lets go of Shiro's hand and storms out of the room, barely greeting the people by the door.

Shiro follows him with his gaze while he can, then tries to focus his attention on the man and the two women he doesn't know walking towards him. The man smiles warmly.

«Good morning, Shirogane. I'm Doctor Barton, and these are Nancy and Sarah. Today it's September 20th and it's thirteen past nine. Are you feeling well today?»

Shiro isn't sure, so he doesn’t reply. The doctor and the two nurses start checking the machines and the data, Nancy smiles at him and says something about "Keith", and Shiro tries to remember if he already met her somewhere.

He doesn't remember. That conversation and _Keith_ fall into darkness.

 

The doctor runs some tests to see what he remembers, he puts a book in front of him and Shiro realizes that he can read, even though he has no memory of learning it.

The nurses start raising the upper part of the bed during day hours, so that he can more or less sit, and when his movements are less jerky, more coordinated, they give him a whiteboard and a marker so that he can communicate.

That bit turns out to be more complicated than he thought. The first day, when he tries to reach for the marker, he finds out he can't. The arm he tries to move isn't there anymore, and he panics. It takes the nurses a while to calm him down, and someone tells him that it is a consequence of the accident, one of the many, one of the worst. Shiro doesn't remember the accident, nor does he remember losing an arm. Writing with his left hand is more difficult than he would have thought.

There have been holes in his memories ever since he woke up in that hospital room, holes he doesn't know how to fill, holes in which he remembers an instant and the next one is forgotten forever. Sometimes he grabs the marker and tries to write something, only to stop midway because he has forgotten what he wanted to say in the first place. Sometimes he asks the same thing more than once, and the only way he knows this is because when he looks down at the whiteboard, he sees the sentence he wanted to write in the first place and doesn’t remember writing it.

It is tiring, and it is stressful. He sees it in his own impatience, in his confusion when he stops and he's lost, lost in his head, lost mid-thought, lost somewhere far.

He sees it in Keith's impatience, who every time he comes inside, has to introduce himself all over again, « _Hello, I'm Keith and I'm your flat mate, I'm twenty-five years old and I am majoring in robotics._ » He sees it in the resignation in his gestures when he walks inside and pins a small card on his chest with his name on it, he sees it in the tears he tries to hide behind angry movements of his head and hands, when he runs them through his hair but then pulls at the dark locks.

A day comes when he recognizes him and writes Keith's name on the whiteboard before he has the time to say his usual small speech. The look he gets from Keith is worth ten thousand forgotten seconds.

 

The day they remove the respirator, it's been two weeks since Shiro woke up.

It's been one month and a half since he had the accident.

When he starts eating solid food again, it is one of the best sensations he can remember.

Keith is silent, calmer. He’s stopped crying before or during their _meetings_ , he's stopped looking like he is on the verge of passing out, even when he has just woken up after a night spent on the uncomfortable hospital chairs, he's stopped looking like his breath got stuck in his throat every time Shiro says or does something weird, something that isn't _Shiro_. He's stopped acting as if everything was working against him, and his soft smile is one of the greatest gifts he could make to Shiro.

After Shiro starts breathing without the aid of the ventilator and manages to eat and sit and do things by himself, Keith brings other people over. It's clear that he doesn't enjoy doing that, if the scowl on his face is something to go with, but Shiro enjoys the new company. It's a good distraction.

There’s this guy, Lance, lanky and bright; he is the first to break the ice, with a pun that makes everyone else in the room groan - well, except Keith. He just kicks Lance's shin hard enough to make him yelp. Shiro thinks he likes Lance, and wonders if it was the same even before the accident.

Then there's Hunk, a giant with a teddy bear's heart. He almost crushes Shiro with a hug when he first sees him, only to be reminded of the situation a second later and moving away with a contrite expression on his face. Shiro still appreciates the hug, though, and lets him know as soon as possible.

Pidge is the youngest of the bunch, fiddling with her hands, big teary eyes behind the lenses of her glasses. She looks so small between the two taller guys, so frail, that Shiro proposes first for a hug. When she runs to him, she starts crying on his shoulder and the best Shiro can do is pat her back, regretting not having two arms to properly hold her.

She was the one suffering the most, Keith tells him after the others are gone.

«You basically grew up together» he adds, watching as Shiro eats some bland soup. «You always told us how jealous her brother was when you were six and one-year-old Katie preferred to sit on your lap rather than his. Now he's abroad… studying space engineering or something. He, you and Pidge together make a brain bigger than all of ours.»

Shiro hummed, thinking about Pidge _-_ or-Katie and her tear-stained face and puffy eyes, and lowers his spoon. «Did I have a lot of friends before?» he asks, his voice still a little rough. Keith's gaze softens, and he starts fiddling with the buckle of his jacket.

«You still have lots of friends, Shiro» he murmurs. «You just don't remember them.»

Shiro nods and picks up his spoon again, looking at the yellowish soup in his dish and the remnants of bread, and he raises his head.

«Aren't you the one hurting the most, though?» he asks.

Keith's mask breaks for a second there, uncertainty and pain all over his face, but he is quick to wipe everything away. «It's different for me» he says, his voice quivering just a little. «I mean, we've been flat mates for only three years, you've spent your whole life with her.»

«That doesn't mean you aren't hurting, though» Shiro replies.

Keith's lower lip trembles at that, and in a second there are bitterness and anger in his eyes, ugly wrinkles at the corner of his mouth and on his forehead that make him look ten years older.

«Why do you even ask? It's not like you're gonna remember any of this tomorrow.»

Shiro sees regret take the place of anger in the span of a heartbeat, and even Keith seems surprised by that sudden outburst. He fiddles with the buckle a little longer, unsure of what he should do, and in the end he stands up and walks out, barely murmuring a «I'm sorry» as he leaves the door open.

Shiro thinks of following him just like he had seen in tons of boring TV series he had been watching while alone in his room, thinks of holding him and telling him to explain everything, _why are you being like this, what have I done to have you act like this_ ; but then he remembers he can't follow him, not with all those machines still connected to his body and some of his wounds still healing, not when he doesn't even know if his legs still work properly after being bedridden for more than a month. He remembers the fact that Keith never touched him and he doesn't know if he even likes to be touched or hugged, and so he just stays there, looking at his cooling soup.

For once he wishes he could forget what happened, wishes his brain erased something because he wants it to.

His brain must hate him, because when he wakes up the next morning, he still remembers.

And, Shiro is sure of it, so does Keith, because the next day he doesn’t show up at the hospital.

 

When he does show up two days later, visiting time is almost over, but the nurses let Keith in anyway. Shiro doesn’t know why, he’s not sure about that; maybe it’s because they’re flat mates, maybe it’s because he’s the closest thing to family he has - even though he doesn’t think that’s the reason. From Keith’s words, the Holts should be the closest thing to a family he has, after his parents’ death in a car accident.

«It almost seems a bad joke» he had commented, his lips bent in a bitter grimace. «First your parents… and now your memory. All in a car accident.»

None of that matters. Keith enters the room with his head low and fiddling with his hands, and he eyes the chair more than once before he finally decides to sit down. Shiro looks at him and he feels warm inside, warm at the thought of not being forgotten, at the thought that even though his head is still a mess, even though he still forgets stuff, he won’t be left alone.

Keith looks up at him and then sinks back into the chair, and he looks tired, so tired and sad. «I’m sorry» he mutters, not looking at Shiro’s face. «I’m sorry for acting like that the other day. That was… really mean of me, I shouldn’t have done that in the first place. I know it’s not your fault if you don’t remember stuff.»

«It’s okay,» Shiro replies, and stretches his arm out towards him, but still doesn’t touch him.

He lets Keith decide that, and he’s sure he made the right choice, because Keith is looking at his hand like it might hit him, his eyes big and mouth slightly open. He then runs his gaze from the hand to Shiro’s face, then back at the hand, and again his face. Shiro can’t hide the proud and happy smile that tugs at his lips when Keith raises a hand and hesitantly holds his, their fingers intertwining.

It feels natural, it feels intimate. Shiro thinks that he likes it, likes the way Keith’s fingers slide between his as if they’ve been doing it for ages, likes the way their palms kiss each other, and likes the way Keith holds his hand tighter, as if never wanting to let go of it.

«I’m sorry,» Keith says again and his voice trembles.

Shiro caresses the back of his hand with the pad of the thumb, saying «It’s okay, really», and the weight on Keith’s shoulders seems a little lighter.

«I know I shouldn’t be negative and shouldn’t burden you with my dramas, I _get it_ , but it’s just…» Keith releases a quivering breath and brings his free hand to his hair, fingers digging deep in the dark locks and pulling. «It just feels wrong. Not you, you don’t feel wrong, you would never, but this whole situation, this whole… _thing_ , just feels so wrong. You didn’t deserve any of this, you never did, just why did this happen now…»

Shiro holds his hand a little tighter and pulls at his arm, and Keith looks up at his smiling face. It’s a sad smile, but it feels real, and the small tears in Keith’s eyes feel real too.

«I understand that» Shiro says, pulling Keith’s arm a little harder, and he almost stumbles when he leans forward, on the edge of the chair.

«No one deserves this. I’m sorry you’re going through so much because of me, Keith, trust me.»

Keith shakes his head and his lips curl into a little smile. «You’ve got nothing to be sorry about» he murmurs, then sighs.

He’s wearing a grey hoodie today, one that looks a little too big on him - screw that, it _definitely_ looks too big on him, but it’s still cute, and Keith looks really nice in it.

Shiro plays with his fingers a little. «Can I hug you?» he asks in a small voice.

Keith freezes and looks at him like he just spoke Japanese - Shiro knows he can, or could, Keith told him so, but he’s pretty sure he spoke English this time.

«W… why is that» Keith asks weakly, and tries to tug away his hand.

Shiro lets him, but he still looks at him. «Is it bad?» he asks, tilting his head to the side.

Keith fiddles with his fingers in his lap and doesn’t meet his gaze, but he shakes his head so quickly Shiro fears he will feel nauseous. «That’s not it» Keith murmurs, and gulps.

Shiro furrows his brows. «Did we not hug before?» he asks then, and bites the inside of his cheek. Keith shakes his head again and sighs, raising his gaze. «No, just… just forget it, okay. You can hug me if you want, it’s not a problem.»

Shiro still isn’t convinced. «I don’t want to force you to do something you don’t like» he says, and this time Keith scoffs, moving from the chair to the bed and raising his arms.

«C’mon. I told you it’s okay, or do you not want to anymore?» he asks begrudgingly.

Shiro wants to, of course he wants to. Which is why he raises his arm and tugs Keith a little closer, until their foreheads are inches apart, and then closes that same arm around his waist, holding him against his chest. Keith’s hands stay still for a few seconds, maybe out of surprise, maybe out of distaste, but in the end they lie against Shiro’s shoulder blades.

Keith shifts and presses his face against Shiro’s neck and breathes in, the grip of his hands on the white gown Shiro is wearing getting stronger, trying to pull him a little closer, until there is not even a millimeter between them.

Keith curls on himself and against Shiro like a puppy or a kid after a fall would do, his breathing coming out uneven and broken, and Shiro is sure that there is something wet running down his neck now, but he doesn’t comment on that. Instead he tries to hold Keith as close as he can, running his hand down his spine and trying to hush his sobs.

«It’s okay» he whispers, and Keith sobs harder, weakly shaking his head. «It- it’s not…»

«It is» Shiro stops him, and brings his hand to Keith’s nape. He has his hair tied up in a messy ponytail, and the hoodie is too large to cover his neck. He wonders if he’s cold or not.

«You’re okay. I’m not there yet, but I will be soon, I promise. We’ll soon be both okay.»

«How can you know,» Keith moves away and roughly tugs at the hem of his sweater, wiping the tears away from his red face. His lips are pressed together in a thin line, and he’s never looked more broken. Shiro reaches out to grab his hand, but Keith quickly pulls it away and hides his fingers in the long sleeves, and Shiro sighs. «I might not know a lot of things about the world, or even about you» he says, and he doesn’t miss the way Keith flinches at those words. «You are right, I don’t know. I _can’t_ know, but that doesn’t mean that I have to be negative about everything. That’s not what’s gonna help me improve and get my memories back.»

Keith lowers his head and Shiro gives him the pack of tissues on his nightstand. Keith takes it with a small «thanks» and wipes is eyes and nose, still hiccupping a little and his shoulders tremble every now and then, but he already seems calmer.

Shiro smiles and manages to catch his hand, holding it tight so that he can’t escape. «Can I hug you again?» he asks gently. Keith looks up at him and nods slightly, hiding his face against Shiro’s neck again.

Shiro lays his cheek on top of his head and holds his waist, so tiny under that big, big hoodie.

He’s warm.

Keith is so extremely warm.

 

❋❋❋

 

Keith curls up on the uncomfortable hospital chair, bringing his knees against his chest and watches as Shiro sleeps. He keeps his head turned slightly to the side, so that he’s facing Keith, and his hand is curled up on the duvet. He sleeps fine and hasn’t needed the ventilator ever since the doctors removed it, but Keith is still scared that he’s gonna suddenly stop breathing, just like it had happened on the day of the accident, but this time no one will be around to help him and Shiro’s life will be gone forever.

Keith holds back a trembling sigh and tugs at his hair band, letting the loose strands of hair fall messily on his neck. With a hand he plays with the black band, with the other he traces abstract patterns on Shiro’s arm, careful not to wake him up.

Shiro grunts, but then he’s back snoring, like nothing happened.

Leaning on the chair, Keith moves closer and lays his face on the pillow, eyes scanning every feature of Shiro’s face. He looks older, even though it’s only been a month and he’s still only twenty-nine. There’s something in the way his forehead wrinkles when he has a bad dream, in the way he grimaces, that makes him look like he’s past his forties. Maybe it’s the scar, he thinks as he runs his eyes down Shiro’s nose, looking at the darker patch of skin that cuts it left to right. Another unpleasant souvenir of the accident.

Hesitantly, he raises a hand and hovers it over Shiro’s face, wanting to touch it, wanting to feel it for just one brief second. He knows it’s illogical, he knows that Shiro is there and he’s real and he’s _alive_. He knows, yet he can’t believe.

Shiro turns his head and a soft groan leaves his parted lips, his face turning into one of pain. When he moves, his face brushes against Keith’s fingers, and he stills. Carefully, Keith cups Shiro’s cheek, thumb ghosting over the end of the scar to brush against his cheekbone instead, noting how _warm_ Shiro’s face is compared to his cold hands.

He’s not able to think too much about that; Shiro groans again and this time it looks like he’s going to wake up every moment. Keith moves his hand from Shiro’s cheek, skin now warm from the contact with Shiro’s feverish one, and brings his other hand, still cold, to his forehead, hushing him.

«It’s okay, it’s okay» he whispers, pushing Shiro’s dark forelock away from his burning forehead. «You’re okay, it’s just a bad dream, you’re fine,» and then, barely a breath «I’m here with you.»

A painful knot forms in his throat at those words, and he tries to swallow it back before he starts feeling the tears threatening to come out. Yet he keeps whispering little nothings into Shiro’s ear, caressing his face and holding his hand, not letting go until Shiro’s stopped grunting and whimpering and until his face is relaxed again.

Keith sighs and straightens his back, but then Shiro moves his head and nuzzles his palm, lips brushing against the pale white of his wrist and the blue of his veins. Keith holds his breath and slowly removes his hand, Shiro sighing when his cheek touches the warm pillow where Keith’s hand had been just a second before.

Keith stumbles outside the room and knocks into a nurse, who yelps and looks at him surprised. «Are you okay, sir?» he asks, trying to grab Keith’s arm when he sways against the wall.

Keith shoves away his hand and nods, blinking away the tears. «’m fine» he mutters, and looks at the door he left ajar. «You… you might have to check the patient in room F-29» he says, and the nurse turns to said door. «Shirogane’s room?» he asks, and Keith nods again.

«He was warm when I touched his forehead earlier. I think it might be a fever» he says, and finally manages to steady himself and walk away.

The nurse hesitates, unsure if he should take care of the cart he was pushing before Keith knocked into him, if he should go check Shiro or if he should follow that small and tired guy walking down the aisle. «Sir, do you need us to call a cab? You don’t look very well» he calls after him. Keith ignores him, he ignores everything around him. Ignores the other nurses and the few doctors he meets on his way out, ignores the lady at the reception when she greets him, ignores the couple of guys he knocks into when he’s on the road. He doesn’t ignore the cars and the traffic lights though, he’s not that stupid. He’s not stepping into that hospital as a patient ever again.

He doesn’t go to his house- to his and _Shiro’s_ house; the keys tinkle in his pockets but he left the bike in the parking lot by the hospital, and he doesn’t have the strength to go back and drive. And even if he had taken the bike, he wouldn’t have gone there anyways.

Instead he walks to Lance and Hunk’s house, and when he rings the intercom it’s Lance who opens the door for him to get inside, toothbrush in his mouth and his pajama pants hanging low on his hips. «I was starting to think you’d never show up» he says in a muffled voice.

Keith shrugs out of his coat and takes off his shoes, closing the door behind him as Lance reaches the bathroom to wash his mouth. «I’m sorry for coming here at this hour» he says.

Lance hums from the bathroom and half-yells a «don’t think about it!».

Keith still thinks about it, and when he walks into the living room he apologizes to Hunk, who dismisses everything with a shake of his hand. «Don’t worry buddy, we’ve got you» he says.

Lance walks in, now wearing an old t-shirt that used to be a bright apple green many, many washings ago. «How’d it go today? We’ve been waiting for you to come and watch a movie together, but you didn’t answer your phone...» he says, flopping on the couch and tapping the seat beside him to make Keith sit down. Keith complies and sighs, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. «Just as usual. I’m sorry about the calls, my phone must’ve died» he murmurs, stretching his legs out.

He knows neither Lance nor Hunk are going to buy his lie, he’s never been good at telling tall tales. Lance bumps his shoulder against Keith's and when Keith looks up he sees his worried face and way too kind eyes, looking right through him.

«You wanna talk about it?» he asks quietly, as Hunk sits beside him.

Keith thinks that maybe he should. He should take that horrible, horrible weight off his chest while he still can, vent with someone who isn’t Shiro, because he more than anyone doesn’t deserve that. Maybe he should see someone who could help him clear the mess in his head, because he’s tired of those voices telling him bad things, telling him what he should do, what he should have done, what he _could_ have done and didn’t do.

And he tries, talking. He opens his mouth and the words are already forming in his head, but then everything is wiped away by the flood of tears that closes his throat off, and the only things that leave his lips are ragged and broken sobs.

In the end he just curls up on himself, wishing he could become so small that he could disappear between the folds of the couch, he hides his face against his knees and cries until his throat is burning and his head hurts.

Lance holds him tight, gentle fingers threading through his hair as Hunk pats his back.

«Please don’t cry, Keith» Lance murmurs, and Keith hiccups harder than before, trying to stop his shoulders from jumping with every quick take of breath.

«I could- I couldn’t tell him» he sobs, uselessly trying to wipe his face. «I just stood there again and wanted to tell him so badly but I couldn’t, I know I won’t be able to any time soon. I can’t do this to him, Lance, I can’t-»

«Shh, it’s okay buddy, you don’t have to tell him right now. You both need time to recover.»

Hunk grabs a box of tissues for him and Lance takes one and taps it under Keith’s swollen eyes, never stopping to caress his hair. «Wanna stay here with us for a while? We were about to put on a movie and grab some midnight ice-cream.»

Keith gulps and looks up at the clock, his vision still a bit blurry and way too dark at the corners where he pressed his fingers hard. «It’s not even half past ten» he chokes, and Lance rolls his eyes. «Then we’ll have some not-even-half-past-ten ice-cream. You up for it?»

Keith sniffs and nods. Lance smiles and gestures to Hunk, who stands up and walks away to the kitchen to grab the ice-cream. Keith rubs his arms, trembling; crying makes him weak.

Lance notices and grabs a blanket, wrapping him in it.

«Stay warm, you idiot» he murmurs, and Keith smiles weakly. «Thank you, Lance.»

«Anything for you, Mullet.»

Hunk comes back with a chocolate flavored ice-cream box and three spoons, putting it between Keith’s knees and plopping down next to him. «May the Sappiness Club meeting begin» he announces, and actually manages to get a snort out of Keith. «What movie is it this time?»

«Breaking Dawn.»

«You want me to cry even harder?»

«C’mon, it’s not that bad.»

«It’s cringe. Of the worst kind.»

«Whatever man, I know you had a crush on Booboo Stewart.»

Keith still watches the movie, ignoring Lance by his side who whispers the lines in his ear, and digs his bad thoughts into the ice-cream, eating it too fast and hoping in a brain-freeze.

Maybe he will be able to forget somehow, maybe it will be useful.

It doesn’t really help though, only worsens his headache.

Keith falls asleep somewhere between Bella showing the sparkly blonde woman that her child is not a vampire and the other sparkly people looking for more allies.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up from a coma with post-traumatic amnesia is not as easy as some people may make it look. You don’t wake up and move like it’s nothing, you don’t forget things just when you fall asleep and then wake up the next morning, you don’t go home after a week.

Life is not like in movies, or TV series, and sometimes Shiro wishes it was.

It takes time. The doctors keep coming in every morning to check the machines, check his blood pressure and ask him questions, trying to see whether there’s been any improvements.

Sometimes Shiro remembers, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he still forgets _what_ he’s doing in the middle of doing it, but that has gotten less frequent, luckily.

Keith starts bringing items from their apartment, stuff that according to the doctors will help him remember his past. Sometimes Lance, Hunk and Pidge come over and talk to him and about him, they tell stories about how they met and the experiences they share.

Shiro drinks in everything, trying to remember what the others are telling him, but more often than not he has no idea what they’re talking about.

The doctors tell him not to tire himself, that it’s okay if he doesn’t remember, he’s already making such progress. But it stresses Shiro out more than he wants to admit.

Keith keeps showing up almost every day, but he keeps his distance. He doesn’t try to hug him or touch him again, and Shiro respects his decision. Even if he doesn’t like it, it doesn’t matter.

Rehabilitation wears him out. He needs to get a prosthetic as soon as possible, that’s the thought that has him going and giving his all. By the end of each session, his muscles hurt and his breath is fast, too fast; but it’s okay, it’s good for him. So he doesn’t protest.

Three months pass quickly, quicker than he thought.

And even though this is not a movie, even though he spent more than one-hundred-and-ten days in this hospital, it does feel too soon when they finally discharge him from there.

Everyone is there, Pidge jumping around and running to hug him as soon as he steps outside. Shiro groans and hugs her back, caressing her messy hair, and then bumps his fist with Lance’s. «Hey man, you’re finally free!» he exclaims grinning.

Shiro smiles back and holds the handle of his suitcase. «Yeah. Well, kinda. I still have to show up for therapy and all.»

«That doesn’t matter, now you can eat proper food again! Screw that tasteless mud you ate in there, today we celebrate!» Lance jumps and raises his hands to the sky, his voice bright and loud. Shiro grins and exchanges a glance with Hunk, before looking around for another familiar face.

Pidge sees him and pokes him in the belly, making Shiro jolt.

«Keith said to go home, he has a meeting. He will catch up with us there» she explains.

Shiro tries to hide his disappointment and presses his lips together, nodding. «Alright then.»

There’s an awkward moment of silence that follows; Lance clears his throat and gets everyone’s attention, grinning slightly. «Sooo… do you wanna walk or take the car?» he asks.

Shiro deadpans for a second, and lowers his gaze. «I… I think I’d like to walk more» he says slowly. «Taking the car still feels a little...»

Lance nods. «That’s good, buddy, whatever makes you comfortable» he replies quietly.

Shiro smiles at him, relieved. He still doesn’t feel ready enough to get on a car, and he wants to avoid every contact with one of them for as long as he can.

«I’ll go get the car and drive to your home then» Hunk says twisting the keys in his hand, and with a gesture of his hand he turns around and walks away.

Pidge tugs at Shiro’s arm, pulling him. «C’mon, it’s this way. It’ll be a long walk though, are you sure you wanna go there by foot? We can always rent a bike or take the bus» she asks, dubious. Shiro smiles at her and shakes his head. «It’s okay, I have to get to know this city again after all. And to be honest, I don’t know if I remember how to ride a bike.»

«Dude, that’s not something you forget that easily» Lance notices, but doesn’t insist.

Pidge and Lance drag Shiro around, pointing at buildings and places, _that’s where Hunk and I live, that is the park where we used to hang out when Keith and Lance were freshmen, Pidge lives in that building you see there_. They show him the schools he attended, the art academy where he used to study before the accident, the museum.

«You had an exhibition there, last year,» Lance tells him. Shiro doesn’t remember it, but the others promise him that they’ll show some pictures once they get home.

When they do finally get there, Shiro’s head is filled with information and places and notions, and he’s sure the majority of it will be gone before the day ends.

Lance searches inside his bag and fishes a keychain, with way too many keys to count hanging from it. «Uuh, this is yours» he says, lending it to Shiro. Shiro takes the bundle of keys and examines them, reading the small writings on the handle of each. He sure was neat in his pre-amnesia life, he thinks. There’s one key for the garage, one for his old parents’ house, one for his studio. The last one says “Home”, and he tries opening the door with it.

It opens, and Shiro holds his breath as he walks inside.

The apartment is nothing fancy, maybe a little small, but it’s clean and bright. The hall leads to a small living room, with a single couch and two armchairs. There’s even a pellet stove in the corner, and a TV on a low table in front of the couch. Two small corridors branch out of the living room. When Shiro walks to them he sees that one of the two leads to the bedrooms, while the other one leads to the bathroom and the kitchen.

Someone closes the door in the hall, and when Shiro turns around he sees Lance and Pidge gazing around, a weird look on Lance’s face. «Is everything okay?» he asks, and Lance jolts, his eyes open wide. «O-oh, yes! It’s all good» he says and chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. «It’s just… been a while since we last got here, that’s all. Keith didn’t really invite anyone while you were at the hospital.»

That lie tastes sour and weights unpleasantly on the back of Shiro’s mind, but he dismisses it. He doesn’t have time for that now, and he doesn’t want to ruin the mood. Instead he follows the clattering from the kitchen and sees Hunk busying himself, mixing something in a bowl.

«Hey Hunk,» Shiro calls. The other man turns around and sends him a flashy smile. «Hey there, you made it alive» he jokes.

«Lance always gets lost when he has to walk here, I don’t know how he manages to do that.»

«I dunno, I just follow the GPS when I’m with my car, but on foot it gets messy!» Lance protests, walking inside, Pidge right behind him. Hunk chuckles. «We’re lucky Pidge was with you both, then» he replies. She just raises an eyebrow and takes a cookie from a jar on the counter. «When did Keith say he will be home?» she asks, sitting on the table.

Shiro doesn’t know where to stay, if he should sit or not, so he just rests against the doorframe, awkwardly holding his hip with his hand.

Lance shrugs and steals the cookie from Pidge’s hand, making her protest indignantly.

«Dunno. He said not before lunchtime» he says.

«You said he had a meeting?» Shiro asks, curious. Lance nods. «He’d been looking for a job even before the accident. Apparently he found something in a café downtown, and wanted to check it out.»

Shiro hums and moves away from the door. «Then maybe we should cook something? So that when he comes back lunch will be ready. How does that sound?»

Lance, Hunk and Pidge exchange a glance and then nod, the small girl running to Shiro and grabbing his arm. «Uh, yeah that sounds just fine» she says, beaming. «But you stay away from the kitchen.»

Shiro furrows his brows and looks down at her, confused. «Why is that?» he asks. Lance clicks his tongue, shaking his head. «Just for… safety precautions. You couldn’t cook for your life before you lost all your memories, I don’t want to imagine now.» Then he opens his eyes wide and throws his hands in the air, a dramatic expression on his face. «Oh my God what if you manage to finally burn down the house?» he yelps.

Hunk snorts and shakes his head, while Shiro pouts offended. «I can’t be _that_ bad!» he exclaims. Pidge just tugs at his arm once more. «Shiro, you once tried to feed Keith some… charred black thing that you dared call a hamburger. It was terrible. We had to take kitchen privileges away from you, there was even a time when Hunk followed you to his kitchen when you had to drink water because he was afraid you’d set something on fire» she says, not even trying to sound nice.

Shiro just furrows his brows even more and sighs, turning his head.

«Do as you want then» he mutters, and walks to the living room while Lance and Hunk laugh.

He ignores them and instead decides to sit down by the pellet stove, staring at it lost in his thoughts. Pidge walks behind him and squats, looking at him from above her glasses. «Need anything?» she asks. Shiro quickly glances at her and shakes his head. «Just… thinking how this works. How much pellet do I have to put inside?»

«Put about a pound, I think that should be okay.»

Shiro nods and does as told. While the room starts to warm up he looks around once again, his eyes set on the few photos on the tallboy. There is one picture which shows him at what he imagines is his graduation from college, then another one that shows Keith’s graduation. He looks so much younger, and his hair is shorter too. He hasn’t lost his scowl across the years, he thinks with a smile, looking at the frown on Keith’s face.

«What did I study in college again?» Shiro asks, standing and taking his picture in his hand. Pidge follows him with her eyes and sits on the floor, crossing her legs. «Space science. That’s how you met Keith, you were his tutor for a year. But then in his second year he decided that it wasn’t for him, so he moved to robotics.»

«And how did I end up in an art academy?»

Pidge shrugs. «You’ve always liked art, ever since you were a kid. I still have some of the drawings you used to make for me when we were little, I can bring them over if you like. It might help you remember.»

«Yeah… that might be a good idea, actually.»

Shiro observes his past self and sees the differences. Sees just how brighter and hopeful he looked back there, with the dumb uniform and the hat and that big, big smile he wore on his face. Twenty-four-year-old Shiro would have never thought that he would lose all of his memories in just a few years. He looks at his younger face, with no scar on the bridge of his nose, with no bags under his eyes, and wonders what he was thinking at that moment.

He was the same age as Keith now. He looks at the other picture, at Keith's pouty expression and his crossed arms, looking absolutely awkward and oh so not wanting to take that photo.

He didn't know him at the time, he thinks, and his expression softens.

«I used to tutor him, huh?» he asks, putting the picture back where it was before and walking to the couch. He sits down with a sigh and rubs at his forehead, feeling a headache creeping.

Pidge sits next to him, preoccupied. «Are you okay, Shiro?» she asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. Shiro nods and closes his eyes. «Yeah… yeah, I'm good. Just a headache.»

«Do you want an aspirin? I think I remember where you used to keep them.»

«No, it's okay.»

Shiro lowers his hand and reopens his eyes. Pidge pulls her glasses up and crosses her legs.

«How are you doing then? Does this place feel weird?» she whispers. Shiro shrugs and then nods. «I mean… you all keep calling this place "home", but… it doesn't feel like it to me. There are pictures of me and Keith, there's the stuff Keith brought to the hospital in the hope that I would remember, and I know this is where I used to live because of all of that. But… this place doesn't feel more like "home" than the hospital did.»

«It’s understandable, I think. I mean, it must be difficult.»

«It’s just… how can I know that all of this is true? I trust you guys, I really do, but I can’t help but think that it might all be just… some kind of game you’re all playing just to deceive me.»

Something changes in Pidge’s face, a hurt look that makes Shiro feel bad for his words, and he quickly adds. «I- I know you’re not though! It's just that…»

«It's just that you don't feel safe enough» Pidge says, and she smiles a little bit. «It's okay, really. It's understandable, I swear. You don’t have to feel sorry.»

Shiro still does, though, and he lowers his head. Pidge shifts next to him and stretches to grab the remote control, turning the TV on. «Something you’d like to watch?»

Shiro peeks at her face, and his shoulders relax. «There's usually National Geography around this time…»

Pidge smiles and taps on the remote’s buttons. «Gotcha.»

Keith comes back somewhere between Saturn's rings, his face looking tired and pale. Shiro hears him before seeing him, hears the soft sigh he releases and the _thud_ of his bag on the floor, the _tap_ of his shoes as he removes them. Then Keith walks inside the room and stops, his gaze fixed on him. Shiro gulps, nervous for some reason, and smiles faintly. «Hello.»

Keith blinks and his posture relaxes, he smiles, awkwardly rubbing a hand against his nape. «Hey. You're back here.»

«Guess I am.»

«Yeah…»

Keith gulps and diverts his gaze, looking at the TV instead. «It's… good to have you back.»

«It’s good to be back,» Shiro murmurs back. _For now_ , he thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud.

There's silence for a while, the soft buzzing of the TV and the plain voice of the narrator the only sounds audible. Pidge saves the day, hopping up from the coach and running to Keith with a big smile plastered on her face. «You finally got here! We were starting to think that aliens had abducted you» she exclaims, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him inside.

Keith smiles and shakes his head. «Alien abduction? That's lame, coming from you.»

«I just feel kind today. Shiro’s back here, _you_ ’re back here, and Hunk is making food in the kitchen.»

«Is Lance with him?»

«Duh. They're cooking together.»

«May aliens abduct us.»

Pidge laughs and plops on the couch again, putting her feet on the cushion.

Shiro looks questioningly at Keith, who smiles softly. «Lance is… not as good as a cook as he likes to think» he explains, and sits on the couch next to him. He still looks a little tense, but not as much as he looked before. «He’s not as bad as you, tho. You were a _disaster._ »

«Once we left you both alone in the kitchen, I don't know why. Maybe we were drunk. What matters is that when we came back, you had set a pan on fire.»

«We _what_?»

«Listen, I know as much as you do, I have no idea how you managed.»

«The truth is!» Lance exclaims, walking inside the living room from the kitchen, hands on his hips. «We were trying to make toasts.»

«With a _pan._ »

«Listen buddy, no one is perfect.»

«Why were we trying to make toasts?» Shiro asks. Pidge snorts from her seat, hugging her knees, and Lance opens and closes his mouth. In the end he lowers his head, sighing. «We were drunk.»

This time Keith laughs as well together with Pidge, but his laugh is quieter, more reserved.

Shiro looks at him and smiles, relaxing against the backseat. He takes this time of distraction to properly observe him; the small dimples, almost invisible, which appear on his cheeks when he smiles, the light in his eyes; the way he quickly knotted his tie, the folds in his white shirt.

He looks older without his oversized clothes, but those small details betray him.

The thought makes him smile.

Keith turns his face towards him and his laugh dies, but the smile still lingers on his pressed together lips. «How do you feel?» he asks quietly. Shiro smiles and nods, crossing his legs. «I'm okay» he says. Keith's gaze turns warmer and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. «That's good» he breathes, looking relieved. «That's really good.»

Shiro turns his head to the TV, barely listening to Pidge and Lance's arguing in the background. Keith sits more comfortably next to him, hugging his legs close to his chest.

Hunk comes out a little more than ten minutes later, his apron now dirty and a satisfied expression on his face. «Oh, I see everyone’s gathered here» he says happily, and bumps his fist against Keith’s. «How’d the meeting go?»

Keith smiles tiredly and stretches his arms above his head. «It went well. The owner of the café said that my knowledge was more than enough, she made me do like thirty cups of stuff just to make sure of it. She also owns a bar, said that I can work there in the evenings if I need more money and have time between my hands.»

«So that means you have the job?» Lance asks excitedly, jumping on the couch.

When Keith nods he cries and raises his fists to the ceiling. «Great! Discounted hot chocolate!»

«Yeah, uh… not doing that» Keith raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, looking pointedly at Lance, who pouts. «Party pooper.»

«I’m not going to lose my job just because you’re too glutton and too broke to have a decent breakfast.»

«Excuse you!» Lance gasps and opens his mouth, pointing an accusing finger at Keith. «You don’t say that in front of Hunk, his breakfasts are the best of the best!»

«Now, now» Hunk chuckles, but his face warms up at the compliment. «Why don’t we bring this discussion somewhere else? Like, in front of the lunch that’s waiting for us in the kitchen? I’m sure that Shiro wants to eat something that doesn’t taste like carton and old socks, right buddy?»

Shiro smiles and rubs his neck. «Yeah, I… would actually like trying something new.»

The taste of the hospital food still lingers in his mouth. Hunk grins and claps his hands together. «I’m sure you’ll like this» he says, as everyone stands up from their respective places.

«What did you cook?» Lance asks, running behind Hunk and placing a hand on his hip.

The man smiles and brushes his fingers against his hand. «I made carbonara. Thought it would be nice.»

«Oh _yes_! You’re _definitely_ gonna love this, Shiro, trust me!» Lance’s smile grows ten times bigger, and Shiro looks at him questioningly. «Isn’t that some kind of… pasta?» he asks, remembering that one time in the hospital when he was so bored and desperate that he started watching a cooking program on TV. Lance nods excitedly, his expression softening.

«Forget all the crap you might’ve seen on magazines or on the TV though. What Hunk makes is the _real_ carbonara. He cooks it the real way.»

«What does that even mean» Pidge scoffs, sitting at the head of the table.

Lance flicks her ear and she whines, slapping his hand away. «It means that he knows how to cook it, Pidgey. Not like _you._ »

«Well, I don’t care» Pidge shrugs and points her elbows on the table. «Can we eat now? I’m hungry as heck.»

«As our princess demands» Lance retorts, and everyone sits down. Pidge tries to kick him but hits Shiro instead, making him jolt and release a muffled whine, and she immediately stands up saying how sorry she is, that she didn’t want to, she wanted to hit Lance, that dumb idiot.

Shiro just smiles and waves his hand dismissively.

«It’s all okay, Pidge. Don’t worry, I know you didn’t mean to» he says at her apologetic face.

She looks like a puppy. «I’m really sorry Shiro, I didn’t want to…»

«Which is why I’m telling you that it’s okay, really» Shiro interrupts her, and the tone of his voice stops every possible reply. He can tell Pidge still isn’t sure by the way she purses her lips together, but she sits down again and sighs.

Shiro furrows his brows and looks at Keith, who just shrugs.

The mood somehow changes when Hunk brings a huge pot of pasta and puts it in the middle of the table. Lance and Keith immediately hurry to get the first spoonful, the warmest; they bicker and call names and Pidge and Hunk laugh in the background.

Shiro looks at them and smiles, waiting for his turn to fill his dish.

When he takes the first bite, everyone looks at him expectantly and maybe a little bit hopeful. Shiro eats slowly, tasting the egg and the carefully cut bacon, the flavors exploding in his mouth slowly, like waiting to be discovered. When he swallows and raises his eyes, he smiles.

«It’s really good,» he says.

Hunk laughs and pats a hand against his back, yelling an «I knew it!», while Pidge and Lance sigh relieved. But Shiro looks at Keith, and sees his eyes somehow sad.

 

«Is the room okay?»

Shiro raises his head at Keith’s voice and finds him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He looks small, hands tugged against his elbows in an almost defending pose, and his eyes are partially shadowed by the long locks of dark hair that fall in front of his face.

«Yeah, it is. It’s… actually more than I expected, to be honest.»

Keith arches an eyebrow. «Did you expect to live in a cellar?» he asks, his voice a little sharper than before. Shiro quickly shakes his head and stands up, the room turning around a bit when he changes position. «No, no! Not at all, I mean…» he scrubs the back of his head, nervously. «This is… my room, isn’t it?» he asks quietly.

Something in Keith’s eyes changes, and his shoulders fall a bit. «Yeah. It is.»

Shiro nods content, and looks around. «It’s just… I didn’t think it would feel so… _mine_. I mean, all the things around here? It’s all stuff you guys told me about. It feels real, somehow. _More_ real, I mean. Like I really was someone before all of this? It’s kinda surreal.»

Keith sighs and rolls his eyes, moving his hips away from the doorframe. «Of course you’re real, idiot» he murmurs, with just the faintest shadow of a smile on his lips. «You still think that it’s just one big game, with us trying to fuck around with you?»

Those words sting, Shiro has to admit it. He thinks about Pidge’s face after he had said them and guilt wraps around his chest tightly. «Pidge told you» he whispers, looking away.

«Uhuh. She’s not… that good at hiding things. We’re both a mess with dealing with emotions, so… I get her better, I guess.»

Keith walks towards him and raises a hand, but before he can place it on Shiro’s arm he hesitates, curling his fingers and lowering his arm.

«Listen Shiro… I know this is hard for you» he tries slowly, and Shiro looks at him from under his hair. «It’s… not easy, it’s not easy for any of us! But you’re the one who got hit the most, so… I guess it’s okay, if you, uh, ever need to talk, you can come to me. Try to sort things out. Is that alright?»

Keith says those last words faster, he rocks on his feet and digs his hands in the pockets of the sweater he changed into after he and Lance had made a mess on his shirt with the pasta.

Shiro blinks just as quickly and then nods slowly, feeling the grasp around his chest unravel a little bit. «… Of course» he says, looking into Keith’s purple eyes.

Keith smiles sheepishly and straightens his back, gaining a couple more inches. «That’s good» he breathes, and he seems so much relaxed than before.

Shiro wonders if that was the only thing he needed to do to gain such a reaction from him.

He imitates Keith’s smile, and raises a hand. «Uhm…»

Keith’s eyes dart to it, deep amethysts following his movements like a cat with the light of a laser. Shiro’s smile grows a bit. «You too, okay? If you need to talk about anything, to vent or something. I’m just a door away now, right? No need to go to the hospital.»

«No…» Keith raises his eyes again to Shiro’s face, and he turns pensive. «No more hospitals for heart-to-heart talks.»

Shiro chuckles and nods lightly. Then he raises his hand more, and Keith looks at him confused. «Is this okay?» Shiro asks, moving his hand towards him. Understanding lights up on Keith’s face, and it’s like they are back at the hospital, surrounded by air thick with uncertainness and hesitation. Shiro waits patiently, studying the storm of emotions which passes through Keith’s glassy eyes. It reminds him of the universe he saw on TV just a few hours before. It’s beautiful.

«Can I really?» Keith asks in the end, raising his head and looking at him. Shiro smiles and nods. «Take all the time you need» he murmurs, even though his arm is getting tired and heavy, and he is more impatient than he wants to show.

In the end Keith does take a step towards him, and when he’s close enough Shiro wraps his arm around his waist, head laying almost on top of his. Keith is still stiff, his arms down his sides, but then he unwinds and sighs, his small hands reaching behind Shiro’s back and laying against his middle, breath coming out sharp and shy right onto Shiro’s neck.

«I’m sorry for making this weird» Shiro whispers against his ear, and a shiver of cold runs down Keith’s back. «I just… guess I’m kind of a clingy person. Also, hugs make you happier.»

Keith laughs nervously, tapping his fingers against Shiro’s back. «Who told you that?»

«The TV,» Shiro replies almost proudly, and rocks them both just to emphasize his words. «Also we’re pretty much content now, aren’t we.»

Shiro feels the soft curve of Keith’s smile against his collarbone, hot breath fanning against the skin left exposed by the hem of the shirt. «I guess…»

Shiro hums and holds him a little tighter, resting his cheek against Keith’s head.

«I’m sorry for making you take care of everything» he says almost bitterly, and feels Keith shaking his head against his shoulder. «You’ve got nothing to be sorry about» he replies, and softly bumps his closed fist against his side. «Just… try to get those memories back soon, got it?»

«Yeah… got it.»

Slowly, Keith moves away and there’s the faintest pink on his cheeks as he rubs his hands together. «I’ll… let you sleep now, if you want» he murmurs, his voice soft and low.

Shiro smiles and nods. «Good night, Keith» he says, and Keith gives him just the faintest nod before he walks out.

Shiro sighs and gazes around, the walls looking too high and the darkness devouring him and the white walls. He reaches for the door handle and closes it without locking, and then walks to the bed against the wall.

The sheets are cold, and the mattress is weird to him, so different from the one he slept on at the hospital. But the pillow is comfortable, and he falls asleep after only a few minutes.

 

Just a wall away, Keith curls on his bed without even removing his clothes, eyes stinging and warmth still attached to his lips, refusing to let go of it. His cell phone lights up on the nightstand and he has to roll to the side to grab it without unplugging it from the wall.

Lance’s private chat burns his eyes with the intensity of its colors, and it’s almost blindly that he reads the new message.

_L: Are you sure you’ll be okay?_

He doesn’t reply.

He leaves the message box open and locks his phone back, closing his eyes and thinking of far away days, of smiles and laughs, of kisses behind a corner and hidden under the rain.

He briefly touches his lips, and the warmth is still there.

Keith presses the pillow against his face and suffocates his sobs with it.

 

❋❋❋

 

«This is your old high school» Keith says pointing at a building. Shiro looks through the old and rusty gates with curiosity all over his face, a hand against the wall. It’s a nice school, he thinks; it has a big garden and the place is well kept.

«Did I like it here?» he asks, turning his face to Keith.

The younger boy shrugs and shakes his head. «You always told me that you did. I didn’t know you at the time, so I can’t really tell you» he murmurs, digging his hands in the pockets of the extra-large brown jacket he’s wearing.

Shiro nods and looks at the school for a few, long seconds. He can’t imagine himself there, walking that clean path, with a face younger than the one he has now but with much more memories and experiences. He tries projecting himself there, standing in the nice uniform he sees other students wearing, and he can’t imagine it.

A soft hand touches him on the shoulder, barely a brush of fingers. Keith looks at him with a worried expression. «Are you okay?» He asks softly, furrowing his brows. Shiro smiles and nods, holding his wrist gently. «I'm fine, don't worry» he replies, but Keith doesn't look convinced. «Are you sure? If it's too much we can just go back home, you don't have to force yourself and…»

«Keith,» Shiro stops him, and holds his wrist a little tighter. «Keith, I'm okay, really. It's not too much, I'm just a little… overwhelmed, I guess.»

The younger boy bites his lip and looks up at him, still uncertain. «Are you sure?» he murmurs.

There's the faintest blush on his cheeks, and the tips of his ears are pink as well.

Keith's fingers curl in Shiro's hold, and Shiro smiles. «A hundred percent sure. Don't worry, Keith.»

Keith hums and slowly retracts his arm, fingers clutching around the hem of his jacket.

The wind is strong in that part of the city, it gets under the clothes and stays there, making them both tremble. Shiro feels the goosebumps covering his skin and shivers, digging his face deeper into his red scarf.

«C'mon, the others are gonna get worried if we don't show up soon» he murmurs, touching Keith’s shoulder. Keith nods and walks in front of him, showing the way.

«Did you take your meds?» he asks then, turning his head. Shiro nods and scratches his nape, smiling. «Yeah, uhm… I still need the alarm to remind me, though. I… always forget to take them» he admits, and Keith sighs. «The important thing is that you're taking them. I'd hate going back to the hospital, I don't want to see you in there again.»

«Hey, I'll still have to go for check-ups and all.»

«It's different. You won't have to stay the night if it's just for check-ups. Who knows what might happen if you don't take the meds.»

Shiro sighs and lowers his hand, looking up at the covered sky. «Let's not think about that, now» he murmurs bitterly, and Keith cringes a little. «Sorry… I didn't want to make you think about sad things.»

«Mhmh, it's okay. Just… what movie are we gonna watch? I can't remember the name.»

«Ah, don't ask me. Knowing Lance, it's probably gonna be something super cheesy.»

«Or another Star Wars movie.»

« _Or_ another Star Wars movie» Keith confirms, and his eyes shine. «You remembered that» he murmurs sweetly, and Shiro’s smile is blinding.

«I did. Lance told me the other day at home, there was a… a commercial about something. I can't remember what it was about, I'm sorry.»

«No, no, it's…» Keith shakes his head and he's smiling, big and blinding, and small dimples appear at the corners of his mouth. «Ah, it's more than okay, it's… great, really. So, so great!»

Getting happy over such a small thing is probably absurd, nonsense. Shiro just remembered a small conversation he had with Lance a few days before, it shouldn't be that exciting. But it is. It brightens Keith with the light of a sun and it fills Shiro with warmth. It… feels nice.

Shiro smiles and holds Keith's hand, tugging lightly. «Now we really gotta go though, it's getting late» he murmurs, and Keith nods, still grinning. «Yeah, sure. The cinema is this way.»

Keith pulls him, almost drags him, and Shiro laughs quietly.

It starts raining when they are still ten minutes away from the cinema, and then they run, jumping into puddles and laughing as their clothes and hair get wet.

Lance, Pidge and Hunk look at them a little amused, a little bewildered as they run inside the building and sigh content, clutching at their stomachs still a little breathless.

«Well, hello to you too» Lance exclaims with a silly grin, patting Shiro on his shoulders. He replies with a sheepish grin, standing straight. «Hey there, Lance.»

Lance rolls his eyes and folds his arms, an eyebrow raised as he scans the two of them. «Y'know, I knew you'd be late, but I didn't think you'd show up straight out the shower.»

«That's not what happened, Lance!» Keith replies, pushing back his wet hair from his face. «It's raining cats and dogs out there, in case you didn't notice. And since _someone_ that I'm not gonna name forgot to take the umbrella, here we are.»

«Ah…» Shiro’s grin dies a little, and he raises a hand to rub at his nape.

«I had to take it? I'm sorry, it left my mind…» he says, feeling guilty.

Keith sends him a glance and sighs, shaking his head. He moves closer and brings a hand to Shiro's face, moving the dark locks on his forehead away.

«It's okay, my fault for not checking if you had it before we left» he murmurs.

There's a subtle change in the air, Shiro holds his breath as he glances Keith’s hand.

Lance isn't talking, which is _always_ weird.

Keith furrows his brows and when he looks at the others he sees Lance laying against Hunk, his eyebrows almost touching the roots of his hair; even Pidge and Hunk are speechless as they look at them, two identical uncertain expressions on their faces.

Only then Keith realizes that he's standing way too close to Shiro for it to be comfortable, and he quickly jumps back feeling his ears burn.

«A-ah, I'm sorry!» he exclaims embarrassed.

Shiro just looks at him and smiles, shaking his head. Even his cheeks are a little red. «It's okay, Keith. Uhm… thank you. For the hair, I mean» he says gently.

Keith can only nod and hide behind his own hair, hoping that he doesn't combust out of shame. Once again, Lance saves the day by jumping in with his annoying and loud voice, breaking that awkward silence like only he can do.

«So, Ladies and Gentlemen! Now that you've honoured us with your presence, may we go inside? We’ve already bought the tickets, we were just waiting for you two.»

Keith shyly looks up and Shiro lets out a breath, smiling.

«What movie is it?» he asks Pidge, who shakes her head.

«He wouldn't tell me. And when he says that _we_ bought the tickets, he means that _he_ went to the ticket booth, while _we_ » she points at herself and Hunk «went to buy popcorns and drinks.»

«Yeah, and talking about that…» Hunk guiltily raises the popcorn box, a third of its content gone. «I might have gotten a little carried away» he says sheepishly.

Pidge and Lance groan at the same time and she quickly snaps the box from Hunk’s hand, looking dirtily at him. «No more popcorn for you, Hunk» she reprimands him.

«And you're buying a new box right now, while we go inside to watch the movie.»

«You guys are cruel!» Hunk whines, looking hopeful at Keith and Lance, who just shake their head. He tries to look at Shiro and he just chuckles, shrugging.

«I'm sorry, Hunk, majority wins» he says, and Hunk groans. «I hate you all!»

Lance laughs and pushes him to the popcorn machine, poking him in the side.

«C'mon big man, the faster the better» he says. Hunk just pouts and walks away, murmuring something to himself about broken friendships and betrayals.

Pidge snickers and Keith shakes his head, taking some of the remaining popcorn from her box and smiling fondly. «Should we go inside or..?» he asks turning to Lance, who gasps. «Wait for him of course!»

Keith scoffs. «Yeah, it's not like the movie is going to start in… how much time? Five minutes? And again, what movie is it?» he asks, trying to take the tickets from Lance’s hand.

But Lance stretches his arm up and he’s too tall and too much of an asshole, and he manages to push him away.

«Nu-uh, it's a surprise! Not even Hunk knows what it is!» he exclaims happily.

Keith groans and sits down next to Pidge. «If it's some kind of porno or one of your Star Wars movies again, I swear that I'm gonna choke you to death.»

«Your kinks are showing, Keith. Ew.»

«That's not… why are you like _this._ »

«Guys,» Shiro calls, not being able to hold back his smile. «Hunk is back with our food.»

Hunk was indeed back, holding two big popcorn boxes in his arms and with the same pout on his face. Lance squeaks and runs to him, hugging him. «I knew you could do it, buddy!» he exclaims delighted, and Hunk's face seems to light up just a little bit.

Okay, maybe more than just a little bit.

Pidge huffs and stands, pushing the glasses up her nose, «C'mon lovebirds, we have a movie to watch! I didn't leave my project on my table just to mess around.»

«You _always_ mess around when you're with us, Pidge» Hunk replies calmly, and Shiro smiles. Pidge just rolls her eyes, walking first into the theatre.

The movie had already started, but judging from the people's reactions it hadn't been long.

Shiro instinctively reaches out for Keith's hand, afraid to lose him in the darkness, and Keith startles only a little before he squeezes Shiro's hand back.

There's a bit of noise when they finally reach their seats - «You sit down» «No, _you_ sit down next to them» «Just shut up and _sit. Down._ », and lots of people telling them to shut up for real -, but when they finally do sit down, Shiro is squished between a stranger and Keith, Hunk and Lance sitting by the stairs and Pidge in the middle.

The movie, as they later find out, is a love story.

«Classic» Pidge grunts, immediately shushed by Lance. For a while, no one talks anymore -except Lance who keeps whispering and chit-chatting with Hunk, much to Pidge’s delight.- Shiro's eyes don't leave the big screen, totally captured by the story. It's about mid-movie, in the cliché confession scene under the rain, that he notices Keith shuffling next to him, his fingers tapping on the armrest between them. When Shiro turns to look at him he sees him biting his lower lip, his eyes big and watery.

He notices Pidge looking as well, her face sad and helpless.

Shiro tries, he really does. But when he puts a hand over Keith’s, trying to calm him down and murmuring his name, Keith starts as if he'd burned himself on a flame and stands, walking away. «I can't do this,» he murmurs as he runs down the stairs.

Shiro can see his wet cheeks from there.

When he tries to stand and follow him Lance stops him, holding his arm.

«Shiro, let him be» he whispers, his eyes big and sad.

Shiro looks at him and shakes his head, obstinate. «But Keith… he's…»

«He's going to be okay» Lance murmurs, and there's no trace of laugh on his face. «It’s my fault, I didn’t think this through enough, and if anyone has to deal with his tantrums it’s me this time. Listen, Keith sometimes just needs to… sort things out, okay? And he needs his space to do so. I know you're worried for him but, he'll be okay. I promise.»

Shiro opens his mouth to reply, but the words won't come out. What does he know, after all, with his empty mind? With a sigh he sits again, ignoring the annoyed people talking about today's kids' bad manners.

He's tired of this movie. He doesn't listen to one more word, and when the main characters get married at the end, he welcomes the roll credits with relief.

 

When they walk out of the theatre they find Keith sitting on the stairs, his face sunk in his hands. Lance hurries to him and kneels on the lower step, murmuring something. Keith replies and moves his hands away, standing.

Shiro doesn’t miss the look on Lance's face, a mix of sad and resignation that he doesn't like. When Keith walks past him he opens his mouth to say something, ask him if he’s okay, why he acted like that, but Keith stops him before he can start. «Can we go home, please? I'm really tired» he asks, and he sounds weak, his voice feeble and raw.

Shiro nods and quickly shakes his hand to the others, who all look at them with equal sad expressions.

The walk back home is silent. Keith has sunk his head between his shoulders and keeps his head low, hands deep into his pockets. Shiro follows silently, looking around just to check if there are any cars around, but it's all very silent. It's gotten late and he hadn't even noticed.

«Are you hungry?» Keith murmurs at a certain point, when they spot some people eating crêpes across the street. Shiro shakes his head and walks faster, lowering his head to look through Keith’s bangs, «Are you?» he asks softly. Keith shakes his head as well and sighs.

«How was the movie?» he asks then.

«It was okay, I guess. I didn't pay much attention to it after you left.»

Keith furrows his brows. «Why is that?» he asks, his voice a little sharp.

«Well… you weren't there. How was I supposed to enjoy the movie if you weren't there?»

Suddenly Keith’s eyes are distant, and he looks away. Shiro bites the inside of his cheek and follows him until Keith takes the apartment keys from his pocket, opening the front door.

Keith taps the tip of his boots on the floor to get rid of the mud that got stuck in the sole and then kicks them off, throwing his coat on the couch.

Shiro silently picks it up and puts it in its place together with his own coat, looking worried as Keith paddles across the room, a hand sunk in his messy hair and lips pressed together so hard they pale. «Keith,» he calls, and he turns way too quickly, a look of distress on his face.

«What» he asks.

He looks trapped in his own house, in his own skin, and Shiro doesn't like that.

He moves slowly, Keith's eyes never leaving him as he walks across the room right to him.

«Are you sure you're okay?» Shiro asks, stopping a few steps away. Keith's eyes darken and he hunches his back, leaning against the door. «Of course I'm okay» he says; it's a lie, a blatant lie, and Shiro knows that Keith knows it too. «You're not okay» he murmurs, and lowers his gaze. «You have the same eyes you… had that day. When you said that it didn't matter because “it wasn't like I was gonna remember any of that”.»

Keith stiffens, and Shiro knows he did wrong by saying those things.

Silence falls between them like a dark cloak, and Shiro shuffles his feet on the floor.

He thinks about that evening, about the rain that had soaked them wet and their laughs, about Pidge's surprised face when she'd seen them like that and Lance laying comfortably against Hunk, like he did it every day, like it was _normal_ for them.

Shiro breathes slowly and takes another step, watching as Keith’s position goes even more rigid than before. «Keith…» he calls slowly, and then stops because he doesn't know how to continue. Keith looks at him and hides behind his bangs, biting his lip. «What is it» he asks.

Shiro hums and scratches the back of his head, looking away.

«Lance and Hunk» he says quickly, and something stirs in Keith's expression.

«What about them» he asks, and moves away from the door.

«Are they…» Shiro sighs and closes his eyes, feeling Keith's gaze burn right through him. «Are they together?» he whispers then.

Keith lowers his gaze and nods, his hands closed in fists by his sides.

«Does that bother you» he asks, and his voice trembles. With fear, with anger, Shiro can't tell. But he slowly shakes his head, because he knows it's the right the thing to do and really, it doesn't bother him.

«I was just… a little surprised» he explains, and a big weight seems to lift from Keith's shoulders. «That's okay then.»

Shiro doesn't smile. Instead he steps forward, and maybe he gets too close because Keith looks too small next to him, and the eyes he's looking at him with scare him. «Shiro?» he murmurs softly.

«Are you jealous of them?» Shiro asks, and Keith’s eyes go big. «W-what?»

«I see how you always look at them with these eyes…» Shiro raises his hand and brushes messy strands of hair from Keith's face. His eyes are big and scared, his body tense, ready to run for his life at the first bad sign. Shiro doesn’t like it one bit. «I don't know… and your reaction during the movie today, I just… I don't know, maybe… maybe you like Hunk or Lance and-»

«Wha- _no_!» Keith raises his hands and pushes him away, his face red.

«That's definitely not it!» he exclaims with his voice breaking mid-sentence.

Shiro looks at him stunned, not sure what to do next. «But your face back then… and at the theatre then, what happened?»

«Let go, Shiro. Really.»

Keith's eyes are watery now, and his whole body is trembling. Shiro lowers his gaze to his small fists clenching and unclenching, white crescent moons appearing where he digs with his nails too much. «You were crying when you ran away from the theatre» he says, and Keith sends him a wet glare. «Drop it, Shiro» he murmurs, but Shiro insists.

«I just want to know why you got so ups-»

«I said. _Drop it Shiro_ » Keith exclaims at the end, and he sounds devoid of all rage, of all strength. Tears run down his face and they won't stop, and he tiredly brings a hand to his face. «I'm going to bed. I'm _tired_ » he whispers, turning away and disappearing in his room.

Shiro still stands where he was, confused and wanting to reverse time and erase everything, just for a little while.

 

He doesn't sleep. He keeps replaying those last minutes for hours, and when he finally tries to relax they come back and haunt him, follow him to the deepest parts of his mind.

He mindlessly rubs at his missing arm, wincing when he feels the phantom limb hurt.

He should be up for trying a prosthetic any time soon now, and he really hopes that it will help the pain go away.

With a sigh he glances at the open door, and the faintly dimmed corridor.

He knows that the door to Keith’s room is closed, maybe even locked.

He’s never been in there, and Keith has never invited him in. He thinks about getting out of bed and knock, just to make sure that Keith is okay - he doubts he is, but you never know.

Before he can act, however, it is Keith himself who opens the door.

Shiro hears the soft padding of naked feet on the parquet, and then Keith’s minute figure appears in the frame of the door. He looks restless, his face pale even in the darkness, and he rubs at his arms in a nervous tick. Shiro doesn’t talk at first, too surprised to see him there; Keith must be thinking that he’s asleep because he doesn’t even look at the bed and instead walks to the open closet, rummaging inside.

«Where is it,» he whispers to himself, and Shiro shifts on the bed, raising his head.

«Hey» he calls tiredly, and Keith jumps, dropping a folded sweater to the floor. «You’re awake» he says, hiding his hands behind his back, like a child caught stealing candies from a jar.

Shiro nods and sits up, groaning. His head pounds and the lack of sleep makes him feel groggy and stiff. «What are you doing here?» he murmurs, looking up at Keith. He diverts his gaze, shuffling his feet on the floor. «I was… looking for something?» he says hesitantly, almost a question. Then he looks down and picks up the sweater, holding it in front of him.

«I was looking for this! It’s my sweater. It must have ended up here with your stuff by mistake.»

Shiro glances at the sweater and true, he has seen it on Keith, but he has worn it too.

«I didn’t know it was yours, I’m sorry» he says then, pushing his hair away from his face. «I must have taken it because it was the same size as mine.»

Keith’s face tenses up a bit, but he quickly relaxes, his shoulders falling from their stiff position. «It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I should… should have told you» he murmurs, wearing the sweater. It looks huge on him, the sleeves covering his small hands and the hem going way past his hips, but he still curls up in it, hugging it close to his body as much as possible. He still doesn’t leave though, standing awkwardly in front of Shiro’s closet and glancing at him from under his fringe.

Shiro holds back a yawn and massages his face, looking up at him. «Are you feeling a little better?» he asks softly.

Keith nods and brings a hand to his neck, playing with his hair there. «Yeah, I… I’m a little better» he says in the end, moving his weight from a leg to the other.

«You can’t sleep though» Shiro notices, and Keith makes a little, guilty smile. «Nor can you, apparently» he replies, and Shiro chuckles. «Yeah, I just… have so many things in my mind.»

Keith nods and looks down again, playing with a loose thread from his sleeve.

«I’m really sorry about today» he murmurs then, sighing. «I… kinda ruined everyone’s mood back there.»

«I think we all know it’s not your fault» Shiro murmurs slowly, and Keith lets out a small huff.  «It is now» he replies, closing his hands in fists.

«It _isn’t_ » Shiro insists decisive. «If we were to blame someone, that would be Lance since he chose the movie, but again I don’t think he truly knew. He looked really sad and guilty back there.»

Keith sighs again and shakes his head. «I appreciate your words, really. But please let me say that I’m sorry, because I truly fucking am. This… this is none of your fault. None of you.»

«You already said that you were sorry, dummy» Shiro says with a breathy laugh, and Keith looks at him. «You really forgive me?» he asks hesitantly, and Shiro smiles.

«Of course I do. Why shouldn’t I?»

«I can’t believe it» Keith shakes his head, smiling. «I really don’t deserve you» he murmurs then, his eyes distant once again.

Shiro lowers his head, playing with the bed sheets. Suddenly he is back in a far away day, another night, and Keith sleeps next to him, hair splayed around his pale face and lips parted. When he blinks he’s back, and Keith is looking at him worried.

«Are you okay, Shiro?» he asks, placing a hand on his arm. Shiro nods and holds his hand, ignoring the way Keith jolts. «You wanna sleep here?» he asks instead.

Keith’s eyes grow big and he parts his lips, his fingers closing around Shiro’s sleeve. «W-what» he asks quietly. Shiro shrugs, holding his hand tighter. «I… think I remembered something» he explains, lowering his gaze. «You were sleeping here. I… think you had a nightmare, or something. So, do you want to?»

Keith hesitates, he bites his lower lip and he trembles a little, lowering his head. «Can I really?» he asks, looking at Shiro through his bangs.

«Of course you can» Shiro replies, and gently tugs at Keith’s arm, so that he can lie next to him under the covers. Keith looks up at him uncertain, tugging his arms to his chest, and Shiro smiles. «Try to sleep, Keith» he breathes, closing his eyes. He hears Keith nod against the pillow and he shifts a little, settling to sleep. «You too, Shiro.»

And they both sleep.

 

When Shiro wakes up the next morning, he finds Keith curled up against his back, his warm breath softly hitting his neck. Shiro raises his head to look better at him and Keith hums, nuzzling against his shoulder.

He is warm.

Shiro smiles and settles back with his head against the pillow, going back to sleep.

By the time he wakes up again, Keith is nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yell with me on [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/petitkeef) and [Tumblr](https://petitkeef.tumblr.com)!! ^^


	3. Chapter 3

Something clicks back into place, after that night. Shiro is not sure about what it is, to be honest, but it feels too good to worry about it. He doesn't think much about it either, but there are moments when he can do nothing but _feel_ it.

It's in the way Keith moves beside him, the way his fingers linger a little longer on his arm or on his shoulder. It's in the way Keith's eyes soften when he looks at him, and the way he almost instinctively relaxes when Shiro's close. It's in the way Keith calls his name when Shiro comes back home after a long day at work, with his hair ruffled and the tie-knot hanging a little too low on his chest, his smile tired but happy to be back.

It's in the way Keith says his name that Shiro feels that something has changed; he says it with familiarity, his voice warm and suddenly soft even though he had a frown on his face just mere seconds before. Keith calls Shiro like he's home and family, barely trembling and full of relief, like he's afraid that he's going to lose him again.

Shiro ignores the pull at his chest every time Keith's gaze goes dark and distant, his long fingers fiddling with whatever object he has between his hands and the weird way he goes silent.

Keith's not the quiet silent. He's the loud silent, the type that doesn't go unnoticed and doesn't disappear in the back of someone's attention. One second Keith is talking and laughing and bickering with Lance; a second later his eyes get dull, his smile long gone, and his voice dies in his throat. He grows apart from the others and then Pidge or Hunk touch his arm, calling him back from wherever he is in his head, and the smile that Keith gives them is heart-wrenching.

Shiro tries to ignore the way Keith's sad eyes move to him nine times out of ten, and how in a few more minutes Keith's back, smiling and laughing like nothing happened.

 

The months pass, Shiro's memory comes back in bits and pieces, too many to stick together, too few to understand what was of his past. He gets his prosthetic and the phantom pain starts giving him less problems. Keith sticks close to him and smiles, but his mind drifts apart more and more.

 

❋❋❋

 

Shiro raises his head from his book when he hears the front door slamming close, Keith's quick steps following. Keith storms inside the living room, his face livid, lips pressed together so hard they're white. «Fuck,» he wheezes when his eyes find Shiro, already leaning forward on the couch towards him with a worried expression. He wasn’t expecting him there.

«Keith,» Shiro calls, watching helplessly as Keith turns on his heels and disappears, the shuffling of clothes and shoes coming from the hall. «Keith, what's wrong? Did something happen?»

«Nothing happened» Keith cuts him, stepping back in the living room. But his back is hunched, and he hugs his chest with his arms, the same defensive position he takes every time he feels threatened. Shiro knows him by now, he's not going to let himself be fooled.

«I can see right through your lie, Keith» he murmurs, and anger slips away from Keith's face, his cheeks flushing red as he looks away. «I just… had a bad day at work, that's all» he replies in a low voice. He fiddles with a string coming out of his sleeve and drags a socked foot across the floor; then, again, «I got fired today.»

Shiro's eyes go wide and he opens his mouth, shifting on the couch. «W-what? Why did you get fired?»

Keith drags his foot across the floor again, he turns his head. Shiro sees him play with the handkerchief with the blue flowers he has started to find between Keith's hands more and more. «I punched a client» Keith murmurs in the end.

«You _what_? Keith, why did you do that-»

«Can you really not guess?» Keith replies sharply, opening his arms.

Shiro furrows his brows and stands, alarmed, but when he moves close Keith steps back, lowering his head and avoiding the touch of his hand. «Don't touch me, Shiro» he hisses, holding his arms stiffly close to his body.

But Shiro is not dumb, and recognizes the signs; the way Keith turns his head to the side letting his hair cover his face, lips pressed together.

Shame.

Keith feels shame for whatever happened to him, and it hurts Shiro in the worst way possible.

«Keith,» he calls softly, raising a hand but not touching him. «Keith, it's okay. You can talk to me anytime, you know it.»

«I _do_ know it, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to lay my life in front of you like it’s a pack of cards» Keith replies, sinking more into his shirt. He's shivering, Shiro notices. And those words are meant to hurt him, he knows that, and Keith expects him to go away and leave him be, but Shiro doesn’t. He won’t.

«You don't have to do that, Keith» he murmurs, and his hand stands high and still. «Just know that if you need to, I'm here. Alright?»

Keith purses his lips and nods curtly, moving his weight from a foot to the other. «Can I just…» he starts, and his voice falters and dies, his eyes burning holes in the ground.

«Anything you want,» Shiro says, smiling comfortingly. «I can call the others, if you want. Ask Hunk and Lance to bring food and Pidge for video games.»

«As if that would help» Keith huffs, and his eyes flash to Shiro, wide and timid. He sighs weakly. «Can I ask for a hug? And… can I just stay with you tonight?» he asks softly, biting his lip.

Shiro blinks surprised, but the smile on his face grows larger, his cheeks warm. «Of course you can.»

« _Now_?» Keith insists, and he looks on guard, lean muscles tense and ready to spring at the smallest signal of danger. Shiro nods and opens both his arms, waiting for him to take the first step. «C'mon, get in here.»

Keith's eyes burn right through him as he moves closer, still hesitating and tense.

Shiro smiles when he feels slim arms wrap around his waist and tug him closer, Keith hiding his face against Shiro's neck. «Can we stay a little like this?» he asks, his voice muffled by the fabric of his sweater. Shiro nods and hugs him back, caressing his hair. «All the time you need.»

And they do stay like that for a while, until Keith has stopped shivering and his breathing is even again, until he's soft and relaxed between Shiro's arms, his arms dangling limply from Shiro's sides and eyes closed. Only then does Shiro release him, laughing softly at Keith's sleepy expression. Keith blinks slowly and brings a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes.

«I'm sorry, I just…» he murmurs, and Shiro shakes his head.

«It's okay, Keith» he murmurs, glancing at him from under his tuft of black hair.

«It’s been a rough day» Keith finishes, sighing. He slowly moves a hand, touching Shiro’s with his. «I’ll… go take my pajama. Is it really okay if I stay with you?» he asks, looking at him with big, purple eyes. Shiro smiles and nods. «Sure. I’ll be in my room, don’t bother knocking.»

Keith smiles shyly, and walks to his room, his body swaying left and right because of sleep - or lack of it. Shiro glances at the clock – past midnight, he reads - and reaches his own room, turning off the lights in the living room.

He strips the day clothes off with a content sigh, stirring and stretching his arms. There’s a nice pull at his back that makes him smile, raising a hand to rub at his neck.

He’s already worn his pajama pants and is halfway through tugging his shirt over his head when he hears a stifled breath coming from somewhere in the room. When he turns, he sees Keith standing in the doorframe, faded red shorts and black tee hugging his slim body.

«Sorry, I thought… you were done changing» he stutters, his cheeks red.

Shiro feels his cheeks warm and quickly diverts his gaze, smiling to himself. «It’s okay, don’t worry about it» he reassures him, tugging down his shirt and laying down on his bed. Keith nods curtly, the blush still not leaving his cheekbones, and follows him stretching down on the empty part of the bed.

They stay silent for a while, their breathing slowly coming to the same rhythm.

Shiro glances to the way Keith’s shoulders raise and fall to his breathing, the sharp cut of his shoulder blades through the thin t-shirt. His black hair curls down his neck, and Shiro slowly moves a hand to touch the ends of the silken strands, careful not to disturb Keith.

Another memory; Keith sleeping with his small body curled up against Shiro’s, tiny breaths leaving his parted mouth and hair pushed back from his forehead. Shiro’s hand grazing over his cheekbone and temple, cradling his neck, and soft lips pressed against it.

Shiro comes back to the present with a soft sigh that goes unnoticed. But then Keith releases a weak breath and curls on himself, his cold feet brushing inadvertently against Shiro’s legs.

A red light turns on in Shiro’s head and he moves forward, his hand wavering over Keith’s shoulder. «Keith..?» he calls hesitantly.

Keith shakes his head against the pillow and closes his fists around the sheets, his body trembling. «He made advances to me» he says. Every wave of anger slips out of him in a second, making him look smaller than he already is, his voice broken and barely kept together.

He won’t cry, no matter what.

«It wasn’t early, the bar had been opened for a while but there were lots of people. That’s how it always is. This asshole just walked in, already pissed drunk, and started talking to me. He didn’t even want to drink, he just wanted to…»

A pause. Shiro hears Keith gag on air and slowly count to ten to keep his voice from quivering. «Keith…» he murmurs again, but Keith ignores him.

«He just… grabbed my arm and dragged me over the counter. He tried to pin me against him, and it was dark and the music was too loud and no one was paying attention to me- those fuckers were too drunk and horny to notice. He just started touching me and saying things he wanted to do to me, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. When I managed to free my arm I just… punched him as hard as I could across the face.»

Keith laughs bitterly, too tired to care about how slurred his voice sounds.

«Of course that’s when people started to notice. They saw a client with a bloody nose, crying hard and pointing at me and did two plus two.»

Shiro takes a deep breath and only then notices that his own body is trembling, every inch of his skin covered in goosebumps as he tries to hold back his anger. He holds his breath, counts slowly up to ten and he's fine, he's fine but Keith's not.

Slowly he reaches out for Keith's body and hugs him, pressing his forehead against his nape. Keith lets out a quivering breath and pushes back against him, clutching the arm Shiro brought around his hips and holding onto it for dear life. Shiro slowly caresses his tummy, small circles over his shirt which still manage to calm Keith down, even if just a little. «You did nothing wrong, Keith» he murmurs against his neck. «Nothing, you hear me? It was that asshole who brought it upon himself.»

Keith nods weakly and breathes hard from his nose. His shoulder blades brush against Shiro's chest, like clipped wings. «I have no job now» he murmurs, his free hand clutching the pillow under his head. «I still got classes, and we have to pay rent and grocery shopping and…»

«Hey, hey,» Shiro presses his forehead against Keith's nape and Keith shushes, holding his breath. «We'll find a way» Shiro continues slowly, his fingers intertwining with Keith's. «You've been so strong up until now. Now let me help you.»

«You don’t need to» Keith tries, but Shiro quietly stops him.

«Yes I need to, and I want to help you. Just let me do it.»

Keith doesn't reply, but he shifts on the bed, his body aligning perfectly with Shiro's and humming. Shiro caresses his hair and arm, listening to Keith's breathing slowing down and becoming heavy, gradually drifting into slumber.

Shiro smiles and gently plays with his long fingers, admiring how small Keith's hands are compared to his. A lone car passes under their building, a few laughs can be heard - probably just drunken kids coming home after a party. Keith whines and curls on himself, holding Shiro's hand to his chest.

Shiro raises his head from the pillow and looks down at him. Keith's hair is pushed away from his forehead, his eyelashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks. Shiro eyes down the delicate curve of Keith's nose, to his cupid arc, to the soft plumpness of his lips.

Shiro stops, breathes, again.

He hears soft laughs, and gentle touches of slim hands, far away like in a dream.

He tries to run after that memory, but in his hands he finds nothing but ashes and dust.

Shiro's head spins, his body crumbles into nothingness, but Keith holds him there. Makes him feel real, physical, alive. He trembles no more.

Slowly, Shiro lies down again, feeling Keith's heat under his fingertips. When he leans forward, lips barely brushing against Keith's nape, he feels warmth and life all together.

 

❋❋❋

 

The café where Keith worked is downtown, next to a really nice florist shop. It stands between two tall buildings, its dark walls in total contrast with the white plaster. Shiro looks at it from under his hair, fiddling with the strap of his suitcase. The cold wind sneaks under his coat and shirt and he trembles, holding back a sigh.

While he rocks on his feet he looks inside, and sees the owner of the café cleaning the counter, her long hair tied together in a thick braid. With a tiny smile Shiro finally decides to walk inside, the bell by the entrance ringing as the door opens. The owner quickly raises her head, a look of surprise in her eyes, and quickly walks past the counter. «I'm sorry sir, we aren't open for another half an hour…»

«I know, I know» Shiro raises his hands smiling. «I'm… not here as a client, not really. I just wanted to talk about something.»

The girl looks at him uncertain, an eyebrow raised, but then sighs and nods to the counter, pointing at a chair. «Please sit. Be quick, I don't have time to waste.»

«And I hope I won't waste your time, miss…»

«Allura. And you are..?»

«Ah, you can call me Shiro.»

A hint of understanding flashes in Allura's eyes, and she sits on the other side of the counter, her slim arms crossed. «You're Keith's friend» she says, looking at him with curiosity.

Shiro halts, not expecting that, and she smiles. «Keith talked a lot about you. Well, not a lot, because he wasn't one to chit-chat a lot. But he liked to talk about you, especially with that other friend… the flirty one.»

«Lance» Shiro sighs, but a smile tugs at his lips and his chest warms. «Yeah… actually, I'm here to talk about Keith.»

«I fired him last week.»

«That's exactly why I'm here.»

Allura purses her lips, covered with a nice, pink lipstick, and her light eyes move to a bottle of water on the counter. «Water?» she asks, grabbing the bottle and two glasses. Shiro nods, and when he raises his right arm to take the full glass he sees Allura's eyes going big as she notices the prosthetic. Shiro smiles sheepishly, bringing the glass to his lips and drinking.

Allura doesn't drink, running her manicured finger across the flat surface of the bottle.

«What did you want to talk about?» she asks cautiously, eyeing the man sitting in front of her.

Shiro puts down the glass and loses himself for a second, looking around and imagining Keith moving among those walls, behind that counter. He always came home with the nice scent of pastries and chocolate and coffee.

«Shiro?»

With a small jolt he comes back, hiding his embarrassment behind a cough. «Oh, uh, yeah. I just wanted to know… you fired him.»

Allura arches an eyebrow. «Yeah… I did. He punched a client.»

«And did you let him explain why he did?»

«I did,» the barista furrows her forehead, bringing the glass of water to her lips. «Well, I tried at least. When I asked him what had happened, he didn't reply and just looked away. I could only take the client's version of the fact and…»

«And that was enough to fire a boy that is still studying?»

Allura rolls her eyes, exasperated. «Listen, I can only do this much. No one saw what happened, Keith punched a client and when I asked why he didn't answer. What else was there that I could do-»

«Allura,» Shiro purses his lips grievously, and puts both his hands on the counter. «That man tried to hurt him. Made some… advances towards him. Do you understand what I mean?»

Allura falls silent at those words. When Shiro looks up he sees her dark expression, her lost eyes, and her hands tremble ever so slightly. Slowly Allura closes her hand into a fist and looks up at Shiro, her lips pursed. «Is this true?» she asks in a weak voice.

Shiro nods. «He told me when he came back home. He didn't want to at first, but… I guess he needed to get it out of his system.»

Shiro swallows and diverts his gaze.  «Listen, I'm not asking you to take him back immediately - or at all, for that matter. I just want you to listen to him, and… think again about his layoff. He's a good person, and… he doesn't deserve what happened to him.»

«You make it sound like I'll be a terrible person if I don't take him back here» Allura notices, but her voice sounds wet and just slightly amused, not angry at all. Shiro only smiles. «I'm sorry if I made it sound like that.»

«No, it's okay.»

Allura takes a deep breath and holds the glass between her hands, the corners of her lips slightly upturned. «What would you do if I didn't take Keith back?» she asks, her light eyes piercing through Shiro. The man laughs and raises a hand, ruffling his hair. «Well… you _are_ one barista short, now» he says, arching an eyebrow. «I could… try and get the job.»

«You sound so full of yourself.»

«Only when it comes to Keith.»

Allura smiles and sends a quick glance to the clock on her wrist, before sighing. «You really do care a lot about him» she says wistfully, and Shiro's smile softens, his eyes looking down at the counter. «He's helped me through a lot, and I really don’t know where I would be, had it been someone else in his place» he murmurs, playing with the hem of his glass.

Allura smiles, and eyes the door when they hear the bell ringing. A student comes in and murmurs a "good morning," with eyes still filled with sleep and a drowsy walk. Allura excuses herself for a second and goes to take his order, a small notepad in her hand and silken braid falling on her shoulder. The client murmurs something and Allura comes back to the counter, getting a hot chocolate ready.

Shiro looks at her quick movements and Allura smiles, a carefree look in her eyes.

«So… we got a deal» she says, holding the cup between her hands.

Shiro grins. «We got a deal.»

 

Shiro hears Keith's footsteps before he's even closed the front door. Keith's hair is disheveled and his eyes are big, his pale shoulder escaping from the hem of his sweater. «You're back» he breathes, hesitating on the door.

«Yeah… sorry I was late. I was doing something» Shiro explains, hanging his coat.

Keith slowly nods and sighs, running a hand through his hair. «Alright. Doing something» he whispers, looking dubiously at him.

Shiro beams. «I have something to tell you.»

«What is it?»

«Sit down, sit down.»

Keith arches a slim eyebrow, but does as Shiro told him. Shiro sits next to him and crosses his legs, smiling. «Okay so, I went to the café today» he says. «The one you… worked at.»

Keith stiffens and briefly nods, eyeing him carefully. «You did?» he murmurs in a weak voice.

«Yup. And I, uh, did something.»

Violet eyes squint in suspicion, and Keith shifts on the couch. «What did you do?»

«Well, at first I asked Allura if she could teach me how to make a chocolate, a latte and a coffee. Y'know, in case I could become useful there» Shiro laughs, running a hand through his hair. «It… didn't turn out that well. Guess Pidge was right when she said that I was a terrible cook. Guess I still am.»

Keith sighs loudly and shakes his head, not understanding. «So, you tried to set Allura's café on fire. Please, tell me you didn't succeed.»

«I didn't. And here comes the good thing.»

Keith furrows his brows, and Shiro’s smile grows bigger. «She said to go to the café tomorrow. She… wants to talk with you. Give you a second chance.»

Time stills. Keith looks at him with his eyes big and so, so purple, his mouth open.

Shiro ruffles his hair, smiling sheepishly – and a little worried now, if he has to be honest. Keith’s face seems stuck in its place. «Sooo… are we clear?» he asks in a soft voice.

Keith jolts, like woken up from a dream, and raises his head, still looking like a deer caught in the headlights. «Go… to the café?» he whispered, not believing what Shiro told him.

Shiro nods, seeing his cheeks turn pink, his eyes shining. «I… explained her what happened the other night at the bar» he says carefully, studying Keith’s reactions. «I didn’t tell exactly everything, but… she seemed to understand anyway. She’s a clever woman. And she said that she wants to give you a second chance. Also, she wants to know if she has to sue that man. He’s a usual customer, it shouldn’t be difficult to recognize him, righ- _oof_.»

Shiro never finishes his sentence. Keith launches himself onto him, his arms sneaking around his neck and face against his shoulders, his breath coming out hard and fast. They almost both fall, but Shiro manages to steady them, hesitantly placing his hands on Keith’s hips.

«Thank you» Keith murmurs against his shoulder, arms pulling him closer. «Thank you so much, I don’t… _oh_ , thank you thank you thank you…»

«It’s nothing special» Shiro laughs, running his hand down Keith’s back.

Their chests are flushed, their faces close. From that position, Shiro can perfectly see the different hues which paint Keith’s eyes, every small scar, every imperfection.

He’s beautiful.

Keith laughs and laughs, pressing his face against Shiro’s neck, and Shiro can’t avoid smiling, rocking on his feet.

Yes, he thinks; this feels right, with Keith there between his arms, his face so close and his scent. Without thinking, Shiro lays his head on top of Keith’s, sighing content.

To think that Keith wouldn’t even let him touch his hand, just a few months before…

Keith sighs and closes his eyes, locking his arms around Shiro’s neck.

«I’m so happy» he murmurs. Shiro gently flicks his ear, smiling when he squawks. «You deserve to be happy» he says, and he can feel Keith smiling against his collarbone.

«Idiot. Going around telling my business to my boss…»

«She had to know. Both for you, and for that asshole client who tried to hurt you.»

«You didn’t need to do that.»

«Yes I did. Consider it my way to pay you back.»

«What? What the hell are you saying…»

Keith raises his head a little bit too fast, and… he stops.

Their mouths are a breath apart, Shiro’s eyes wide in front of him.

He’s sure he’s stopped breathing, too, his heartbeat fluttering under his fingers, resting against Shiro’s neck. Keith holds his breath and opens his mouth, trying to find something to say, words, _anything_. Trying to ignore the way Shiro’s eyes fall on his parted lips, ignore the way he slowly moves forward…

Keith’s phone rings in his pocket, and he thanks whatever God listened to his prayer.

Quickly, maybe too quickly, he moves away from Shiro and takes the phone in his hand, not even checking who’s calling. Hell, it could even be an answering service for what he cares.

He’d kiss the answering machine’s voice, if he could.

«Hey, buddy! Heard you got your job back!»

But no, there’s no such luck. He wouldn’t kiss Lance for the sake of his own sanity.

Still, he saved him from an uncomfortable situation. He deserves some kind of gift, or prize. Keith holds back a sigh and runs a hand through his hair, moving to the other room to answer. «Hey Lance. What’s up?»

A few seconds of silence follow, then Lance clears his voice.

«Uh, Keith? Is that really you? Not… some alien who took your voice, right?»

«Of course not, dumbass, why would that even happen.»

«No, just checking, you were incredibly polite for a sec. Now I recognize you for your true self.»

Keith manages to not roll his eyes and closes the door behind himself, leaning against it.

«What do you want?»

«Oh, right! So, you really got your job back? About… thirty-six hours after you were fired. That’s a new record buddy, you know that?»

«How do you know that?»

«Oh, I was just at the café. And I asked Allura – who let me tell you, I still think is a real beauty no matter how many times I see her, I’d ask her out if I wasn’t already with Hunk - what she had decided to do with you, and she told me that she decided to take you back in and blah blah blah. She’s so nice, isn’t she nice Hunk?»

Keith hears Hunk hum something along the lines of «Yeah Lance, she really is» and he can’t hold his sigh anymore. «Nothing’s set in stone yet, Lance. I still have to go tomorrow and talk with her, and then maybe I’ll get the job back» he explains.

«Yeah but, I mean, it didn’t look like she needed a lot of convincing? Anyway, we’re coming over tonight. Are you up for pizza? Pidge is coming too, of course.»

«Did you just invite yourselves here?»

«Did I stutter?»

«Damn, I wish you did» Keith muttered, but gave up with an exasperated «Fine, come over and set the house on fire while you’re at it. Let me ask Shiro about the pizza.»

«Okie dokie.~»

Keith slides the door open and looks outside.

Shiro is still in the living room, resting against the couch, his brows furrowed and lips pressed together in a thin line. Suddenly, pizza, doesn’t seem like a great idea anymore.

«Hey,» Keith calls softly, and the other man raises his head. «Lance and the gang are crushing over tonight. They went to Allura’s and she told them that… that I might keep the job. Are you up for pizza?»

«Uh…» Shiro blinks, his eyes unfocused, and then tries a smile. «Yeah, sure. Totally up for it.»

«Okay…»

Keith comes back inside his room and flops on the bed. «Shiro said pizza is okay.»

«Great!» Lance howls, and Keith hears the clapping of hands. «Then we’ll make sure to get his favorite one. Don’t spoil it for him, or he’ll never eat it.»

«Don’t you _dare._ »

«What? What is that? I can’t hear you, there must be some connection problems.»

Keith rolls his eyes and lies down on his bed, crossing his ankles. «When will you be here?»

«Around seven thirty? And keep your hands off the alcohol, we want to drink too!»

«Yeah, alright. See you later then.»

«Later!»

Keith hangs up and sighs, locking his phone and placing it on the nightstand. His cheeks still feel warm, his breathing too fast.

When he raises his hands in front of his face, he can see them tremble.

In a second he’s back there, with the noises, the smoke, the fire and the screams.

When he sees red on his hands, he turns his head and sinks his face in the pillow, hugging it so close that he can barely breathe.

 

❋❋❋

 

Lance and Hunk come over a little later than a quarter to eight, Pidge already crushed on the couch with a PS controller between her hands. «You’re late, you doofuses» she says, wiggling her foot on the armrest.

«Yeah, I’m sorry, we were getting _your_ food» Lance says indignantly, placing the boxes on the backrest. «Food that we paid with _my_ money. The money I get working my butt off from dawn to dusk, breaking my back over and over and-»

«Will you shut up» Keith interrupts him, taking the boxes and sending him a dirty glance. Lance pouts and crosses his arms, leaning against Hunk.

Shiro smiles briefly from his seat on the armchair, eyes focusing back to Pidge’s game. «Hey guys, thank you for coming over» he says, and just a second later, «Pidge, you’ve got one behind you.»

Pidge mutters a «thank you man» and shoots the guard that almost got her character killed, a big “ _FATALITY_ ” appearing at the top left corner of the screen.

«Nice kill» Hunk comments, sitting next to her. Lance follows immediately, flopping on his lap and stretching his long legs. «Playing with Pidge is always such a pain in the butt» he whines, and Pidge sticks her tongue out. «Just because you’re all sore losers.»

«I am _not_!»

«Lance, you’re the very definition of sore loser. It’s like, your second name.»

« _What_? I won’t stand for such lies, Hunk, tell her that she’s lying.»

«I call Switzerland,» Hunk says peacefully, and Shiro snorts behind his hand at Lance’s offended face. «Hey, kids» Keith calls from the kitchen, cocking his hip against the doorframe. «Pizza’s served. Come get it, because I have no intention of bringing five pizzas there by myself.»

«You’re always so _lazy_ » Lance huffs, standing to get his and Hunk’s pizzas.

Shiro stands as well, sending a glance to Pidge, still focused on her game. With a soft smile he reaches the kitchen, looking at Keith. «Which ones are mine and Pidge’s?» he asks softly.

Keith looks at him quickly and points a hand to two dishes. «Those» he says curtly, and Shiro nods, taking them. Lance sends them a weird glance and arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t make a comment. Shiro mentally thanks him for that.

«What pizza did you get me?» Pidge asks, her fingers so quick on the controller that Shiro finds it difficult to follow her movements. Lance grins. «Pepperoni pizza for you and Keith, margherita for Hunk, and a special one for me and Shiro.»

Keith rolls his eyes and Pidge makes a horrified sound, raising both her eyebrows. «You _didn’t_ » she exclaims, and doesn’t notice her character die in the game.

«Yes, I _did_ » Lance replies, grinning so hard that he shows his teeth. When he sees Shiro trying to peek inside his pizza he quickly moves his hands. «Ah-ah! No cheating! You gotta eat it while you don’t know what it is, be a man!» he says.

Shiro arches an eyebrow and looks at the others. Keith turns his head but his lips are bent downwards, Pidge shakes her head and Hunk sighs, smiling. Shrugging, Shiro takes a slice of pizza and bites into it, ignoring the loud gasp coming from Pidge and Keith.

«So? How is it?»

Lance is practically vibrating on his seat, a big grin splattered across his face.

Shiro munches on the bite and swallows, pursing his lips. «It’s… not that bad. It’s good, to be honest.»

« _Yes_! I _knew it_!» Lance breathes, raising his fists to the sky like if he had just won a competition. Pidge groans and lets herself fall on the armrest, while Keith slowly shakes his head. «I can’t believe it» he mutters, sitting next to Pidge’s head.

«What» Shiro asks, furrowing his forehead.

Keith dramatically puts a hand on his face and looks at him between his fingers. «I can’t believe that you, Takashi Shirogane, Golden boy of the Gamara University, would do this to me not once but _twice_.»

« _What._ »

Shiro’s confusion is transparent. Lance doubles over and laughs, hitting his thigh with his hand and with teary eyes. «You just broke them» he howls, pointing at Keith and Pidge, who shake their heads at the same time with an identical, disappointed expression on their faces. «You just ate the Ugly Pizza» Pidge says sorrowfully. «With capital U and P,» Keith adds.

«Okay, what did I eat?»

Shiro leans over his dish and opens his pizza, looking inside. Soft, yellow slices rest on the tomato sauce and cheese, and Shiro raises an eyebrow. «Pineapples?»

«Pineapples,» Pidge and Keith say gravelly in unison. Lance laughs so hard that he chokes on his spit, and coughs. «Oh man, that was so fun to see» he says after he drinks the glass of water Hunk has poured him, grinning.

«I still don’t understand what the problem is here» Shiro says, slowly closing his pizza again.

«The problem is, Shiro,» and Pidge points her finger at his pizza, looking at it like it had just insulted her mother. «That you like that thing.»

«… It’s a pizza.»

«It’s a _pineapple pizza_. That thing belongs to Hell.»

«Don’t overreact, Pidge» Hunk says calmly, taking a slice of his margherita and biting into it.

«You’re the one who should be the more disgusted by all this» Keith says looking at him. «It’s food we’re talking about. You’re the only one among us who can manage to cook something more sophisticated than instant noodles, yet you’re not horrified. Why are you not horrified?»

«It’s because I learnt how to adapt to every situation» Hunk replies, licking the grease off his fingers. «Plus, Lance eats it too. It’s not like I’m going to kick him out of our home just because he likes pineapple pizza.»

«I would kick him out» Pidge whispers, raising her head. «And burn his car, too. Have him live under a bridge and beg for food. He must feel _sorry_ for his sins.»

«Even _you_ wouldn’t refuse a slice of pineapple pizza if you had nothing else to eat, Pidgeon.»

« _Try me, McClain._ »

« _Guys_ ,» Shiro calls, and four pair of eyes turn on him. «What about we all eat what we like and don’t judge each other?» he proposes, smiling hopeful. Pidge sends a glance Lance’s way, and turns her head. «Can do that» she says.

Lance replies by taking a bite out of his pizza, and she scrunches her nose.

«Only because I’m too hungry myself» Keith sighs, taking his pizza.

«Justice is done» Lance muffles around his food, gulping. «Hey Mullet, where did you put the drinks?»

Just like that, it’s all solved. Shiro forgets what happened, Keith forgets what happened, but that’s mostly because of the beer that Lance keeps pouring in his glass. His cheeks are red, his smile tiny but honest, and he leans comfortably into Shiro by his side, tapping a finger on his knee.

«Do you guys remember the time Keith and Lance got so drunk they almost made out?» Pidge asks with a snicker, cleaning the grease of the pizza off her hands with a tissue. Hunk laughs and Lance squawks indignantly, hitting his shoulder. «We’re _not_ talking about that!» he exclaims, going beet red.

«Oh, we definitely aren’t» Keith mumbles around the seam of his beer bottle, and Shiro smiles down at him. «You _almost_ made out?» he asks innocently, receiving an offended yell from Lance, who looks at him with a betrayed look.

Keith sighs and stretches his legs over Shiro’s, looking at him with an annoyed expression. «We would have made out» he says, slow and clear, he raises a wobbling finger. «We would have probably made out, if Lance hadn’t tripped over his own fucking feet and ended up making out with the _floor._ »

Lance rolls his eyes and throws a paper cap at Keith, hitting him on the forehead. «I was drunk» he protests, and Keith sends him a death glare.

«I was too, but I didn’t humiliate myself in front of the whole bar.»

«That’s ‘cause you cheated. We were supposed to drink until we couldn’t feel our brains anymore.»

«My brains were definitely melted, if I tried to kiss that ugly frog-face of yours.»

« _You didn’t._ »

Lance’s eyes are huge and he slams his glass on the table, trying to stand. Hunk stops him, putting a hand on the crook of his elbow and pulling him down again. «C’mon Lance, sit down» he says. Lance obeys begrudgingly, crossing his arms and pouting, and again it’s up to Hunk to make him cool down, patting his back and hair and whispering in his ear.

Shiro sends Keith a glance, but he’s back with his head down, subtly snuggling next to him. Keith raises his head and looks back at him, mouthing a «What.»

Shiro shakes his head and smiles, caressing his back. He feels happy. For once, he doesn’t feel responsibilities, or fears tapping against the sides of his head.

For once, surrounded by his friends made uninhibited by the beer, he feels free.

They drink more, Lance’s mood gets better and he starts laughing and yelling again, as the number of finished glasses – or bottles - is forgotten in favor of fun.

At a certain point, Lance tries to fit the whole content of his glass in his mouth. He manages, for a while. Then the beer ends up sliding down the wrong canal and he’s coughing his lungs out, Pidge rolling on the couch screeching and Hunk with a comforting hand on his back, telling him to take it easy and breathe slowly.

Shiro smiles and diverts his eyes, looking at Keith instead. He finds him already looking back at him, a finger running up and down the side of his bottle of beer, his eyes somehow distant, lost. Instinctively Shiro reaches out for him, laying his hand on his knee. «Are you okay?» he asks worried.

Keith jolts and looks at him with his eyes open wide, and nods slowly. «Y… yeah, don’t worry» he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Pidge pokes his side and snickers, raising her glass. «Keith’s drank too much, I think» she announces, and Keith sends her a death glare.

«I didn’t» he replies; Pidge rolls her eyes. «You did. Just look at your face.»

Keith grumbles and lowers his bottle, looking at it like it had offended him.

With slow movements he moves from the backrest and reaches for a hair tie in his pocket, raising his hands to collect his messy strands on a ponytail. Then he picks his bottle and settles back, but with his back against Shiro’s arm this time. He brings the beer to his lips and drinks, long and ballsy, his throat bobbing as he drinks.

He doesn’t put the bottle down until it’s empty, and then slams it on the table, eyes half-lidded and bold expression sitting on his flushed cheekbones. «I said,» he proclaims, looking at Pidge who has gone silent. « _Not drunk._ »

Pidge slowly shakes her head and mutters a «bratty bastard» that goes lost against the edge of her glass. Lance and Hunk are silently laughing in their corner, Lance raising an eyebrow as he leans against Hunk. «We’ve lost him,» Hunk murmurs.

Shiro smiles briefly, his attention completely caught by Keith. Keith, who’s resting against him with not a single care in the world, Keith who’s just drank a whole bottle of beer just to prove his point. Keith, who still wears that smug look on his face and crosses his arms over his chest, tongue darting out to moist his pink lips and his warm, his lean body completely relaxed.

Keith reaches out to grab another beer and Shiro feels cold. Instantly he reaches for Keith’s wrist and snags the bottle from his hand, gaining a small whine.

«I think that’s enough for tonight» he says with a grin, shaking the beer mid-air. «You have to meet Allura in the morning, you forgot?»

«I’m totally able to go and meet her on my own» Keith replies, the lie blatant in his face and slurred words, and tries to get his beer back. Shiro moves it away and leans back, Keith following him. «I have no doubts you’re able to, but you have to get there _sober._ »

«I _am_ sober!»

Keith curls his hand over Shiro’s chest, fingers closing around the fabric of his shirt, he points his feet on the couch and tries to drag him down, making Shiro laugh and stretching his arm out as much as possible. «Are not.»

«Are.»

«Are _not._ »

« _Are._ »

Then Keith slips and he falls face first against Shiro, their foreheads smacking against each other. The bottle slips from Shiro’s fingers and shatters to the ground, Keith howls and curls on himself, hands covering his hurting forehead.

«Oh man, are you guys okay?»

Hunk scoots forward avoiding the shards of glass on the floor, his eyes scanning worriedly the two of them. Shiro whines and raises a hand as an affirmative answer, while Keith tries to suffocate himself against the cushion, sinking in his own self pity.

«Are you really okay? Does your head hurt very much? Wait, are your memories back now that you hit your head?» Lance asks excitedly, leaning forward. Pidge makes an annoyed noise and rolls her eyes, sending him a dirty look. «Lance, that’s not how amnesia works in real life.»

«But is this truly real life» Keith murmurs, his voice muffled by the cushion. «What if we’re all dead and this is our Purgatory?»

«Oh God I haven’t heard you talking about religion since that time you said you wanted to worship the floor Shiro walked on because, quote unquote, “God had created his body out of the most perfect marble and stole two stars from the sky to put them into his eyes”» Pidge grumbles, wiggling her fingers to draw quotation marks.

Shiro looks at her, feeling like his head wasn’t spinning anymore. «He really said that?» he asks, eyes roaming over Keith’s unmoving, pitiable form.

Pidge nods, and crosses her legs. «Well, he was drunk» she explains, and rubs her hands with a thoughtful expression. «I don’t really know why we always do weird things when we’re drunk. Maybe we unconsciously suppress so much when we’re sober that, y’know. Stupidity has to be released somehow.»

«Somehow,» Shiro repeats slowly, arching an eyebrow. The mere gesture makes his head throb. «And what about…»

He points at himself almost awkwardly, and something shifts in Pidge’s expression, her pupils dilating and breath stuck in her throat. It’s Lance who replies, saving her from whatever position Shiro had put her in. «I mean,» he says, clearing his voice. «We all did have a crush on you at one point or another, Shiro. It was inevitable.»

Shiro looks at him, lost, and Pidge makes a disgusted sound, scrunching her nose. «Ew. No I didn’t. It would be like crushing on Matt. Please, someone hand me some more beer. I need to erase that image from my head forever.»

«I think we all had enough alcohol for today» Hunk says seraphic, standing. His legs are a little wobbly, and he has to lean onto Lance to stand, almost making the both of them fall.

«We should really go now, we have classes in the morning» he says, and Lance whines.

«I don’t want to see Iverson’s ugly face. Eight is too early for that» he says, and Hunk comfortingly pats his shoulder. «C’mon, you can do it. Just think about graduation, okay?»

«That way I’ll only end up counting the days that I still have to attend and _crying_.»

Pidge rolls her eyes and stands, smacking Keith’s arm in the process. «I think I should go too, Matt is back from Europe and if he finds out that I got home this late he’s gonna kill me. Sometimes I forget that he’s my brother, and not my father.»

«Do you need help to get there?» Shiro asks, and she shakes her head.

«Nah, don’t worry. Just make sure to take care of that loser there» she says pointing at Keith with a quick gesture of her hand, and Keith, almost like summoned, whines against the cushion.

Shiro smiles and accompanies Hunk, Lance and Pidge to the door, wishing them good night and to get home safely. Then, the house falls into silence.

It’s almost creepy, compared to the amount of laughter that filled it just a few minutes before. Shiro can still hear the echo of their voices, lingering in the air like ghosts made of thin steam. With a sigh he runs a hand down his face, trying to scrub away at least some dizziness from the alcohol and from weariness.

When he walks back into the living room, Keith still hasn’t moved. He’s still curled up on the couch, the cushion pressed against his face and his too-large sweater sliding down between his shoulder blades, revealing the pale skin of his neck and back.

Shiro hesitates on the door, a hand resting against its frame. «Keith?» he calls softly.

He receives no answer. Keith breathes evenly, just a little deeper and more noisily than usual. With a sigh Shiro scoots over, reserving only a quick glance to the broken glass on the floor and the beer, soaking up the carpet; his eyes immediately fall back onto Keith.

«Hey, Keith» he calls again, crouching next to the couch. Keith moves his face away from him, his fingers clutching the cushion a little harder, his knuckles white.

Shiro raises a hand and places it on his neck, under his black hair. His skin is burning. «Keith, are you okay?» he asks, furrowing his brows.

Keith whines and doesn’t turn his head; he does, however, arch against his hand, Shiro’s fingers finding his slow pulse underneath his soft skin.

«Are you really okay?»

Another whine.

«Are you drunk?»

«I’m not drunk» Keith murmurs, his voice low and raspy. Shiro doesn’t buy it for a second. «I think you might have a fever, you’re warm...»

Keith whines again and shakes his head against the pillow. «Not fever. Just hot.»

Shiro sighs and sits, crossing his legs. «Can you turn around, please?» he asks then, pushing Keith’s hair from his neck. «I want to see your face. You’ve been… kinda out of it, for the past minutes.»

Keith glances at him out of the corner of his eye, his hair falling over his face. Finally he turns and looks at him.

Even with his hair all tousled and half-lidded eyes, he’s still beautiful.

Shiro’s eyes follow the almond shape of his magnetic, purple eyes, his nose, the bow of his lips; his gaze wanders across the sharp line of his jaw to his chin, down his pale neck, and then lingers in the hollow between his collarbones.

He has flashes of cradling that neck in his palm, and memories of Keith’s half closed eyes fill his head like the soft ringing of a song. And then flushed cheeks and kisses pressed against warm skin, and fingers intertwining against white bed sheets.

Shiro raises his head when a delicate hand cups his cheek, fingers lingering on his skin.

Keith caresses his face, an awed look lighting his eyes. His hand is warm against Shiro’s skin, but it doesn’t bother him. For the first time, Keith looks fragile and small, almost too fragile. Keith is looking at him with that sad, hurting look that Shiro now knows too well. He has learnt to associate those eyes to himself, and his inability to remember.

The mere thought of making Keith suffer makes him feel sick.

«We should go to bed» he murmurs with the softest voice he can manage.

Keith’s face crumples and he squeezes his eyes, bringing his fingers against Shiro’s nape and sinking in the hair there. «I don’t want to sleep» he replies in a pained voice. His breath trembles and he curls his other hand into Shiro’s shirt, pulling at the fabric. «I don’t want to sleep, Shiro» he repeats, the aching in his voice so palpable Shiro feels his chest collapse, his heart squeeze until it’s dry and dead.

«Why don’t you want to?» he asks, his voice coming out weak and raw.

Keith shakes his head and pulls at his shirt harder, his lips curled in a hard, sad line. «I don’t want to think. I always think when I try to fall asleep and I don’t want that.»

Suddenly the hand at Shiro’s neck is gone and Keith brings it to his face together with the other, pressing his palms against his closed eyes. «It hurts,» he whispers, his voice sounding broken, desperate. Lost. «It hurts so much and you can’t help me. You can’t.»

Shiro gulps and holds his hands, feeling how small they are compared to his. It breaks his heart. «Why not?» he asks, and his voice trembles painfully, so painfully his throat closes around a breath. «Why not, Keith.»

Keith sobs and lowers his head, and it’s like his whole world crushes in the span of a breath.

His shoulders sag and he curls on the couch, his fingers softly tracing the outlines of Shiro’s face. «You’ll hate me» he whispers, closing his eyelids over blown pupils and rings of deep purple. «You’ll hate me and you’ll never want to see me again, and I don’t want that.»

Shiro’s grip on Keith’s hands trembles and he slowly shakes his head, scooting closer.

Keith flinches when their foreheads touch, but he doesn’t move back, biting his bottom lip so hard that the skin turns white.

«I won’t hate you, Keith» Shiro murmurs, and slowly brings a hand to cradle Keith’s neck, bringing him closer. Keith sobs again, and small tears run down his nose, disappearing between his hair. «You can’t know that» he cries, but Shiro shakes his head, hushing him softly.

«I _know_ it, Keith. Nothing about you would ever make me hate you. Don’t ever think that again.» Keith’s eyes flutter open, and Shiro loses himself in his liquid irises. With a soft smile he moves a lock of hair from Keith’s forehead, watching as Keith relaxes against his touch, following his fingers as much as possible. «Do you want to sleep with me?» he asks. Keith looks at him, his cheeks red and lips trembling. He slowly nods, holding onto Shiro’s hands.

«I can’t stand» he murmurs then, and Shiro lets out a short, amused laugh. «Wait, let me help.»

Maybe it should feel awkward, or weird. Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and nuzzles against his neck, his tousled hair tickling his jaw. He feels light in Shiro’s grip. Almost too light.

Shiro carefully takes him to his bedroom and lies him down on the bed. Keith curls on himself, his hands close to his face, and when Shiro moves to go out of the room he raises a hand, closing it around his shirt. «Don’t go» he pleads.

Shiro looks at him. He’s beautiful, even after all that alcohol and after all those tears, and the thought makes his heart clench in his chest, painful but sweet, oh so sweet. Gently, he holds Keith’s wrist and runs his thumb through the pale blue veins, feeling small goose bumps form under his finger. «I’m just going to get your pajama» he murmurs, but Keith still looks unsure, his eyes following every movement.

«Don’t need it,» Keith replies, and tugs at his shirt. «Please…»

Shiro gives up. He kicks off his socks and lies down next to him, Keith curling against his side. He’s warm, like he always is. Shiro instinctively wraps an arm around his shoulders and Keith presses his lips against his collarbone, his hand reaching for his other arm.

It’s familiar, Shiro thinks as Keith holds his hand and intertwines their fingers, looking at them with curiosity. It feels familiar and he’s warm, and his mouth is soft when it moves against his neck, breathing softly. Shiro runs a hand through his black hair and Keith sighs.

It’s not long before he falls asleep, a leg thrown across Shiro’s and their fingers still intertwined. Shiro curls his fingers around a lock of his hair and Keith hums.

Shiro sighs and closes his eyes, his mind flooded with memories from a far away life. He doesn’t sleep, and when the sun peaks from above the buildings he finds himself still gazing at Keith, running a hand through his hair.

 

❋❋❋

 

Keith gets the workplace back. When he comes home he’s wearing a smile so big, so shiny it could probably exceed the sun, his eyes bright. «I got the place back!» he exclaims as soon as he sees Shiro in the kitchen jumping onto his feet.

Shiro smiles from above his cup of coffee and tilts his head to the side. «I knew it would all be okay» he replies, putting down the cup.

Keith nods and grins and he’s so, so beautiful.

Then his smile falters and he becomes quieter, shyer. Shiro watches as his cheeks take a nice shade of pink and Keith diverts his eyes, crossing his arms. «I… wanted to thank you. For… for helping me out, I mean» he says, gulping. «If it weren’t for you, Allura would have never found out what had happened for real and I… God, Shiro, thank you so much.»

«It’s nothing, I did it with pleasure» Shiro replies with a flashing grin.

Keith gives him a short look and nods, curling his lips. «Can I hug you..?» he asks then, his voice feeble. Shiro’s smile grows bigger and he opens his arms. «Come here, you sap.»

Keith flashes him a smile and walks to him, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s middle. Shiro reciprocates the hug, laying his head on top of Keith’s.

Warm. So warm.

«Thank you so much, Shiro,» Keith murmurs against his shoulder.

Shiro shakes his head and sighs content. «It’s nothing, really.»

It’s Keith’s turn to shake his head. «If it weren’t for you, I’d be looking for a new job now. You helped me so much, you have no idea…»

«Yeah well, we couldn’t let me work there. Pan on fire, remember?»

Keith laughs. «Yeah… I do.»

Shiro smiles and raises his head, freeing Keith from his hug. «I… think I do too» he confesses, running a hand through his hair.

Keith’s eyes go big, big, and his breath stops. «You do?» he asks, his cheeks warming up.

Shiro nods and grins sheepishly. «Yeah. Well, not all the details. I think it was after… a match or something. No, wait, a contest? Pidge had won and we wanted to celebrate. Then we drank and…»

«And you and Lance set the pan on fire, trying to make a toast» Keith finishes for him, his voice soft. He looks happy. So, so happy, and Shiro is glad to be the reason for the sweet smile which forms on his lips. Keith leans against the counter and crosses his arms, leaning his head back.

«It was a robot competition» he murmurs, the echo of a laugh on his mouth. «Both Pidge and I had taken part in it. We both knew that she was gonna win. And fuck, did she win. The judges were speechless. I think she still has the robot. Mine got destroyed by a dog, I was so angry...»

Shiro smiles and moves next to him, his hands resting on the counter behind him. «I really want to see that robot in action» he comments. «Maybe it’ll help me remember more.»

«You’re already doing a great job» Keith replies, and tilts his head to a side, his bangs falling to cover one purple and bright eye.

Shiro nods and reaches for his coffee, drinking slowly.

They haven’t talked about the previous night yet. Keith had woken up early and Shiro had pretended to be asleep, if only to avoid the obvious embarrassment. Then Keith had not mentioned it, so he had just decided to let it slide.

Maybe he should talk about it. He knows for a fact that ignoring something will only bring problems. But is it right to mention it? Now that Keith is so happy?

Shiro isn’t sure about it. But still, it’s something they _have_ to talk about. It’s killing Keith slowly, and surely, it’s hurting him.

Shiro doesn’t want to see that shattered expression on his face anymore.

But things can’t always go as desired. Just when Shiro is about to ask, Keith’s phone rings.

Keith quickly takes it out of his pocket and looks at the screen with his face lighting up, and he quickly moves away to answer the call. «Pidge!» Shiro hears him say, his voice bright and so, so happy. Keith is padding across the living room, an arm bent against his chest and holding his other elbow, looking years younger than he actually is. He looks pretty, a smile big like Shiro has never seen. Keith jokes with Pidge and laughs at something she says, sitting in front of the heater and crossing his legs.

Shiro smiles and walks back inside the kitchen to finish his coffee. He’s halfway washing his cup when Keith comes in, leaning against the doorframe with his cheeks glowing. «Hey, I’m going to Pidge’s. Do you want to come?» he asks.

Shiro turns and smiles, shaking his head. «I think I’ll decline just this time. I don’t really want to go out.»

«Hm…»

Keith arches an eyebrow and his lips curl in a small pout, but then he shrugs.

«I can stay here, if you want- »

«W-what? No!» Shiro exclaims, a little too quickly maybe.

He raises his hands and looks at Keith’s confused face. «It’s okay Keith, really. I just want to relax a little, after yesterday night I’m still a bit…»

Ah, there it is. Keith’s face twists into something unattractive and his eyes shift to a side, his shoulders stiffening. Shiro sees the grip on his arm tighten and his knuckles turn white. «Right, yesterday night was… a mess» he murmurs, trying to smile but failing.

«Then I’ll just… I’ll go.»

He turns and walks to the door – he’s still wearing his shoes, he hasn’t even changed -, but then he turns around once more and looks above his shoulder. «If you need anything just call, alright? I don’t know if Pidge will want me to stay for lunch, I’ll let you know. But she’ll probably ask about you, and Matt too. So be ready for an invitation from the Holts.»

«Ah, alright,» Shiro manages to choke out, still a little taken aback. He hears the jingle of keys and then the front door opening and closing, and the house falls into silence once again.

It’s always too silent, when Keith’s gone.

Sighing Shiro runs a hand down his face and leans against the counter. His head aches and throbs, and the lack of sleep makes him feel weary and slow.

He leaves the cup on the counter and walks to his room, sending a glance to the still messy bed sheets. He is tired, but the sole thought of laying down makes him feel sick, wrong. He was lying down on that bed just a few hours before, holding Keith between his arms. They’ve done it who knows how many times, if his memory is to be considered correct.

He sees his phone screen light up with a new message. It is a list of the things he has to do that day - it had been Keith’s idea, because while he always forgot to bring a notebook around, when all of this was still new, at least his phone was always with him.

Shiro runs his eyes over the short list and sits at his desk. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s opening the address book and tapping on Lance’s contact name, calling him. It’s only then that he remembers that he and Hunk had classes in the morning, and that he’s probably not going to answer. But again, life is full of surprises.

The first thing Shiro hears when Lance takes the call is a low grumble, and the shifting of sheets. So, no classes huh, he thinks arching an eyebrow. «Hey Lance, are you there?»

«Hm? Shiro?» Lance’s voice is sleepy and slurred, and he suppresses a yawn. «Wait, what time is it…»

More shuffling, the beeping of what Shiro can only guess is the alarm, and a long pause.

«Well, fuck,» Lance huffs, sounding already less sleepy than he was just a minute ago. «Iverson’s gonna have my entrails for dinner for skipping his class again, I guess.»

Shiro cringes at the image – he doesn’t even know Iverson’s face, but from Lance’s description he’s not gonna look nice. «I’m sorry for waking you up, Lance.»

«Nah, don’t worry. I should say thank you for waking us up before lunch time» is the slurred reply. Shiro is not sure, but he thinks he hears Hunk’s voice in the background, mumbling something about waking up at the unholy hour of eleven A.M, and then soft snoring.

Lance murmurs something and turns back to the phone. «So? What is it, Shiro?»

«Uh, yeah.»

Shiro takes a deep breath and clears his throat, feeling weirdly antsy. «It’s about Keith…»

«Did he do something? _Oh God_ , he didn’t get naked and run out when he was drunk, did he?»

«No, he… wait, what?»

«Oh thank God he didn’t. So, what is it Shiro?»

It takes a few seconds for him to reply, too stunned by what Lance had said.

«There’s… well, it was yesterday, after you all left? He started saying… something I couldn’t quite understand, but he wouldn’t explain.»

«Uh? Have you tried to ask him this morning? He’s always so out of it when he drinks, but he gets clear-headed pretty easily.»

«I… I don’t think he would like to talk about it. I mentioned it by mistake and his face got dark.»

«Really?»

«Lance… I think it was something about me.»

Lance is silent for a few seconds. Shiro hears him shuffle and then the soft padding of his feet on the floor, a door that closes.

Lance takes a deep breath and asks, «What did he say? Shiro, what did Keith say?»

His voice makes the knot in Shiro’s stomach tighten, and he finds it difficult to breathe.

Lance’s tone is full of worry and it _scares him_ , he feels the pumping of blood in his temples and it’s hard, it’s hard, his world spins for a few short, interminable seconds.

«He said something about hurting, and… and that I would hate him. I told him it wasn’t true and he said that I couldn’t know. He was crying, I… I haven’t seen him like that since the first days, and even now it’s all a blur.»

Shiro swallows on dried air and parts his lips, leaning his forehead against the surface of the desk. «I don’t know what to do, Lance» he confesses, every word cutting deeper into his flesh, leaving him bare and cold. «No matter how hard I try, I can’t remember. I only have these… blurs and flashes, but it’s never enough, and I can’t understand what Keith is trying to tell me, and he’s _hurting_. He’s suffering and screaming for help and I’m so close, but it’s not enough.»

«Woah, woah, buddy. Calm down!» Lance interrupts him and Shiro shuts, feeling his breathing hard and fast. His heart pangs and presses against his chest, begging to get out, to be freed from that cage of pain. He presses a hand against it and counts the beats, breathing slowly. He’s home, he tries to remind himself. He’s safe. He’s fine.

Lance waits for him to relax, for his breathing to even out, and Shiro closes his eyes, trying to find peace inside him. His head still hurts and swirls, a never ending vortex of colors and voices and people, and Keith’s amethyst eyes in the focus and his gentle hands against the sides of his head asking, « _Are you happy?_ »

Is he, now?

Shiro lets out a long, troubled breath, and his fingers stop trembling.

Lance is still silent on the other side of the call, waiting patiently. «Are you okay, Shiro?» he asks though, still dead worried.

Shiro nods, and then remembers that he’s on the phone. He manages to murmur a raspy «Yeah, I’m good» that none of them believes to.

Lance sighs, and when he talks Shiro realizes he has never heard him being so serious. «Listen Shiro… I can’t tell you everything because Keith would kill me if I did, but just know that none of this is your fault. Keith is not angry at you, you hear me? He doesn’t resent you in any way, the whole opposite actually. But you _need_ to talk. Like, as soon as possible.»

«Lance, I’ve tried. He just won’t do that and I can’t force him to tal-»

«Well then, tell Keith that he’s an asshole» Lance interrupts him, and it’s so sudden, so unexpected that Shiro doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he lets him talk.

«He’s not the only one that’s suffering because of this and he needs to understand that. He needs to stop with this childish tantrum and fucking take his responsibilities.»

«Why can’t you just tell me what happened and get over with this?» Shiro murmurs weakly, and Lance sighs again. «It’s… it’s not my place to say it. It’s something you have to talk about and realize yourself. I’m sorry, Shiro. I really wish I could help you more, but I just…»

«No, it’s okay. Really, don’t… don’t think too much about it. It’s not easy for you either. I’m sorry for being a burden.»

«You’re not! Don’t say that ever again!»

Shiro manages to crack a tiny, tiny smile, and raises his head. «I think we just… need time now. We’re still adjusting and… it’s not easy for Keith. He has so much to think about and plus there’s me…»

«You’re just two big idiots, that hasn’t changed» Lance reassures him, and Shiro chuckles.

«That makes me feel better, somehow.»

They stay silent for a few seconds, trying to calm themselves down a little.

Then Lance clears his voice and calls, «Shiro,» his voice wavering.

Shiro hums and runs a hand down his face, feeling groggy from the lack of sleep. «What is it?»

Lance hesitates, tapping his fingers against something.

«Keith cares a lot about you» he says then softly. «Like, really, really cares about you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone caring about someone else like he did when it came to you.»

Shiro’s smile is strained as he leans back on the chair.

«Not even Hunk with you?» he murmurs half-jokingly.

Lance’s answer comes after a few seconds, and in his voice there’s a bitter laugh. «Yeah. I think not even with us. You two are just… special, you get what I mean? Ones of a kind.»

«Hm.»

«I guess that’s what comes out when you combine a cooking and a human disaster.»

Shiro shakes his head and presses his lips together, thoughtful. «I’ll let you sleep now. I’m sorry for calling. And for waking you up.»

«It’s no problem man, really. Thank you for waking us up.»

Shiro ends the call and sighs, gazing at the ceiling with half-closed eyes.

He remembers glow stars stuck to the ceiling forming constellations he can’t remember the names of, in a room he can’t envision but he knows that the bed is big enough for two people, faceless voices and fingers brushing against his palm, against his arm, and other fingers pointing at the ceiling, imagining far away planets and purple galaxies, and black holes that devoured and broke apart everything in their way.

Everything but them, oh them…

Shiro breaks down.

 

In his apartment, Lance slides down the wall and curls on the floor, holding his head between his hands, the phone forgotten on the floor. His mouth moves around empty and unclear words and a sob breaks through his throat, leaving him trembling and tense.

Hunk finds him like that, face hidden against his knees and arms hugging his legs.

Lance raises his head when he hears the door open and looks at him with tired eyes, spent.

«It's too much» he whispers weakly.

Hunk doesn’t say anything and sits next to him, enveloping him in his arms.

 

❋❋❋

 

Shiro sleeps. He doesn’t wake up for lunch, and when he finally does the sky has already gone dark, the street lamps pouring their light on the roads. Shiro listens to the intense tapping of water against the window panes, the low rumble of thunder and the sporadic flashes of lightning.

He opens his eyes slowly, fingers clinging limply to the crumpled bed sheets.

He can still breathe the scent of Keith’s skin on the soft fabric, but it’s delicate, faint. The more he tries to hold onto it, the more he feels it slide away, like sand between his fingers.

With a soft groan he curls on himself on the bed, bringing a hand to his face. His cheeks are dry and stiff, his eyes still hurt from tears. He doesn’t remember crying like that, ever.

The sensation is new and foreign, and it causes a black hole to form in his chest, an emptiness that makes him feel sick. He instinctively rubs a hand against his shirt and turns on his back with an exhale, his other hand looking blindly for the switch of the table lamp.

A quick glance to the digital clock tells him that it’s way past eight in the evening.

He’s been asleep for almost nine hours, and his stomach rumbles when he realizes that he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. Shiro reaches for his phone, lighting up at new messages. There are a few from Pidge and Lance in their group chat, and a few ones from Keith from around lunch time.

Boy still using SMS instead of messaging apps; Shiro smiles shortly and shakes his head, standing from his bed and putting the phone back into his back pocket.

The lights in the corridor are turned off, as well as the ones in the kitchen and the living room. The bathroom door is open with no one inside. Shiro furrows his brows and looks around for any sign that Keith came back that day. His shoes aren’t at the entrance, but they never are; his jacket is hanging from the coat rack, but he can’t remember if he was wearing it when he walked out that morning.

Shiro eyes the closed door to Keith’s room. With slow, measured steps he walks to it and knocks, waiting for a reply that never comes. He tries again, harder this time, longer.

Maybe he’s sleeping, he tries to think rationally.

Maybe he saw that they were low on food and went to buy something.

But the fridge is full to the brink when he checks, and when he finally takes courage and opens the door, no one is inside the room.

He’s gone.

For the very first time since he woke up in the hospital, Shiro feels completely alone. Keith isn’t here, he hasn’t come back. His bag is missing- did he have it with him when he left home?

Is he never going to come back?

Shiro takes a deep breath and steps back, pressing a hand against his mouth. Cold sweat runs down his spine and he leans against the wall, trying to keep his head from spinning, trying to shut those evil, tiny voices in his head that tell him it’s all his fault, that Keith’s gone and he won’t come back..

 _Calm down_ , he tells himself, _it’s gonna be okay. It’s okay. Breathe in, and out, in, and out_.

He breathes, slowly and trembling, his vision clearing up the tiniest bit.

With unsteady fingers he reaches for his phone and opens the messages from Keith.

 

_[10:37AM] Just got at Pidge’s. She says hi._

_[11:59AM] The Holts invited me to stay for lunch. The invitation for you still stands, if you want._

_[01:26PM] Are you okay?_

_[02:00PM] Shiro, what’s wrong?_

_[06:01PM] I’m sorry._

 

A strangled gasp leaves Shiro’s mouth and he feels like a hand is squeezing his throat.

With trembling fingers he opens the group chat and scrolls down the messages, words flashing and burning inside his eyelids, _have you seen him, is he at yours, what do you mean “gone.”_

The phone buzzes in his hands and Shiro almost lets it drop, then realizing that it’s a call from Pidge. He quickly picks up and brings the phone to his ear, his breathing hard. «Pidge?»

«Is Keith back?» she asks immediately, her voice bursting with worry. Shiro gulps and the hand around his throat squeezes harder, his vision blacks out for a moment. «No, he’s… he’s not.»

«Fuck, just what is he… _fuck_ , Keith!»

Shiro hears the clank of something metallic hitting the floor, and understands that she’s probably kicked a bin. «Where the fuck is he?» she asks nervously, and the question falls into darkness.

«Pidge,» Shiro calls, scared by how rough his voice sounds right now. «Pidge, where could he be?»

«Does it seem like I know?!» she almost shouts, shivering. « _You_ are the one he always disappeared with. How the hell would I know where he went?»

Shiro closes his eyes and sinks to the floor, curling on himself like a kid in the dark.

«I’ll go look for him» he says, almost choking on his own breath, and closes the call.

His head spins and spins and spins, and when he opens his eyes he sees nothing.

The power has gone out.

The rain hits the window panes with violence, and the sky lights up with bolts and thunders rumbling. Shiro shakes in his place and doesn’t know what to do, whether to move.

 _He’s gone. Gone gone gone, where is he, where did he go_.

Slowly he stands and walks to Keith’s room, praying for it to be just a prank, for him to be there.

He’s not.

The empty room laughs at him and at his fears.

Another lightning strikes, and Shiro feels his heart stop as he looks up.

Glow stars. They look down at him in their tiny shapes, and now he recognizes them. Cassiopeia, Draco, Lynx, Lyra in the corner, Hercules just above.

The tail of Ursa Minor smiles at him and Polaris guides him away from the dark and cold.

Under that starry sky, a bed big enough to fit two people.

Shiro breathes. Again. He closes his eyes and _oh_ , he thinks. Memories of hands brushing, of kisses stolen and his hips pressed against the seat of a motorbike, his fingers covered in grease that slid easily against the curve of Keith’s cheek and his laugh, oh his laugh.

And then more kisses, and hidden smiles and gazes, and Keith laying on his worktable with just an unbuttoned white shirt on – _his_ white shirt - and his skin covered in colors with his eyes burning. Keith’s paint-covered hands against his chest and lips grazing his yellow-streaked cheek.

Another thunder. The lights in the corridor flicker.

Shiro opens his eyes and sees the world with new eyes.

 

He’s running. He’s almost slipped twice on the wet sidewalk and has run past at least three red streetlights, cars stopping in the middle of the road and honking, his heart pounding hard in his chest and he feels like he might be dying, but he doesn’t stop.

His phone is long dead after the attempted calls to Keith and a short talk with Lance - «Have you found him?» «No, but I think I know where he might be» «Where?!» «I’ll call you later, Lance» «Wait, Shi-» -, and the road is dangerous and slippery. The rain hasn’t stopped for even a second, whichever god is up there throwing all his rage on the sinful Earth.

But Shiro doesn’t give a shit about God, and so he runs, until his breath is ragged and his whole body hurts. He doesn’t stop until he reaches that abandoned service station, with its baby blue walls now paled and stripped.

And then he sees him. Crouched under the platform roof, with that big, big sweater that touches the dirty road, his worn out shoes sunk in a mud puddle and tiny hands and tiny fingers gripping the ripped shorts. He sees him with his eyes lost in the dirty water, a finger tracing figures on its surface, thoughtful, a rapt expression on his young face.

He sees him raising his head when the rain suddenly stops hitting his messy hair

      (dumb, dumb boy. What’s the point of standing under a platform roof if you’re gonna keep your head outside?)

A glimpse of surprise runs past his eyes as he looks up at Shiro, amethyst irises looking at the open umbrella over his head. Keith smiles at him, a tiny, precious smile that lights his whole face up.

Shiro looks at the mud puddle and sees his own face. It’s distorted by the rain which keeps falling and falling in an incessant _tick, tick, tick_ on the umbrella and on the water and soil.

His eyes are still looking back at him from the puddle when he feels a small tug to his trousers, and thin, fragile fingers curl around the fabric.

He searches those fingers

                (they’re as cold as ice)

and holds them with his own, tighter, tighter, until he fears to hear them crumbling and breaking in his grip.

His reflection is still looking at him, and

                (it’s so distorted, it’s almost scary)

in the heavy rain it looks like it’s crying.

 

❋❋❋

 

The sky pours its tears over their heads, rumbling and lamenting as a thunder slides its stomach with a loud noise.

Shiro and Keith observe as the sky falls apart and gets put back together in the storm, silently sitting next to each other. Keith has stepped back and his feet aren't plunged in mud anymore, resting naked against the old asphalt. His fingers grip the hems of the jacket Shiro had brought him, hugging it close around himself as if wanting to disappear inside of it and never come back.

But Shiro has almost lost him once - lost him dozens of times before, every time he managed to run away from him, and won't let him do it again. His fingers hold the lower hem of Keith’s jacket and play with it, never letting go. It’s a comforting gesture, that calms the both of them down.

«We need to talk,» Shiro murmurs moving closer to him. Keith lowers his head and crosses his ankles, a soft sigh escaping his lips. «We need to talk» he repeats.

Shiro looks at him and Keith tilts his head to the side, gazing back at him. His hair is still wet and sticks to his skin, framing his face. Shiro looks at him and thinks that he’s beautiful.

«You knew you’d find me here,» Keith is the first one to talk, his voice barely a whisper louder than the rain. «You… remembered. This place, we…»

Shiro slowly nods and takes Keith’s hand in his, thumb grazing over the blueish veins on its back. «Hm. I did remember. Quite… much, I think» he replies, not looking at him anymore.

A sharp breath escapes from Keith’s lips and Shiro risks a look, seeing the way he bites his lower lip in worry. «How much did you remember?» he whispers, and he sounds fragile, breakable.

Shiro diverts his gaze once again and lets go of his hand, smiling.

«We… repaired a bike together. Your bike» he specifies, and his smile grows bigger. «You never told me you had a bike.»

«You never asked» Keith replies, and digs his finger in a cut on his trousers.

«What else did you remember?»

Shiro scraps his nape and looks around, then raises his gaze to the livid sky.

«This was like our escape place. When something went wrong we would come here and talk, and just gaze at the stars. It’s a passion that never died even after we changed major and I left for the art academy. We would point at constellations and imagine how they would look like up close. We would always argue whether Neptune was blue or indigo.»

Keith rolls his eyes and huffs, pushing his bangs off his face. «It’s not my fault if you can't even recognize simple colors, and you call yourself an artist. They teach them in elementary school, you know?»

«We would also buy pizza and eat it together, and you would always watch me disgusted as I ate my pineapple pizza, but that time you tried it you said it wasn't that bad.»

«That day was a terrible mistake.»

«You _liked it_ » Shiro laughs, and pushes him lightly to the side, a big grin plastered onto his face. «You liked it and yet you keep telling Lance and me how invalid we are.»

«This bonding moment is cancelled. Let’s go home, I feel like I want to cry and hide myself from Pidge forever. I disgraced her.»

«No, no, c’me here,» Shiro snickers and holds Keith’s wrist, preventing him from leaving.

A bright light shines in his amethyst eyes, and he flops back onto the floor with his legs crossed. Shiro smiles and looks at him, his fingers tracing his veins once again.

Then he lowers his gaze and his smile becomes smaller, sadder.

His chest hurts and there's nothing he can do to make it stop.

«We used to be a thing» he murmurs then, running his index up Keith's arm, from his wrist almost to the crook of his elbow, feeling how warm his skin is through the fabric of his sweater. «Always among the others, but distant in our own way. We were… special. Ones of a kind.»

Keith has stopped breathing, and Shiro smiles sweetly at him.

«We would lie down on your bed, when it was too cold or too stormy to come here, and draw new constellations with the glow stars on the ceiling. We didn't care if they already were part of other constellations. It was easy to create new galaxies.»

«You always came up with the dumbest names» Keith hums, his voice low and fond.

He quickly raises his free arm and tugs at the hem of his sleeve, using it to brush away his tears. «You… always talked about the voyages you would have liked to make, but never did. About the things you would’ve liked to paint, sooner or later. The things that made you feel alive.»

«I liked to paint _you,_ » Shiro remembers, intertwining his fingers with Keith's. «I covered you in paint once. We had to throw away my shirt after that, because it was beyond repair».

A wet laugh leaves his lips, and Keith bashfully lowers his head.

«That was your idea, too. Wasting your paint for such a thing…»

«It wasn't a waste.»

«It was to _me._ »

«Well, too bad, since the paint was mine to use.»

Keith shakes his head and sighs, hugging his leg close to his chest.

«I'll never understand you» he murmurs, resting his cheek on his knee.

«Ever since the beginning… you were like this bright star, too bright to be looked at, but you always stayed so close. It was like burning up, but staying in one piece all together. That tutoring class we had when we first met…»

Shiro smiles, lowering his gaze on their connected fingers. «You despised me, if I remember right.»

«I hated you from the deepest part of my heart!» Keith shakes his head and his hair releases small droplets of rain onto his face, running down to his chin like tears.

«It was all I could hear. Golden Boy Takashi Shirogane here and there… I thought you were some kind of prick with daddy’s money to wipe his ass with. But then I met you… I got to know you. You were there when I got kicked out and changed to robotics, you were there when I was lost with nowhere to go and you took me in, you were there when my dad…»

His voice breaks with a wet sound and Keith stops talking, hiding behind his bangs.

«You never gave up on me» he concludes, covering his face with his free hand. He’s human and fragile and he’s beautiful, and he’s the closest thing to an angel Shiro has ever seen.

Shiro doesn’t talk, but he moves closer. He moves close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Keith’s body, who’s trembling nonetheless, close enough to see the tears trapped at the corners of his eyes, shining as purple as ever. Keith raises his head and Shiro holds his hand tighter, a soft reassurance.

 

_I’m here now, too._

_I know._

_I’m to going anywhere._

_I know._

_I’m not giving up yet._

_I’m here._

 

Keith stands and he’s bright and burning like a supernova. Shiro looks at him, at his purple eyes the moment they are lighted up by a thunderbolt, full of electricity and raw emotion.

Then Keith turns and runs under the rain, his naked feet sinking into puddles and water and his jacket falling to the ground. Shiro watches him as he swirls around, following an invisible path that no one but he knows. Keith opens his arms and raises his face, letting the rain kiss his skin, and the laugh that leaves his lips is full and liberating. Keith laughs and cries, his tears blending together with the raindrops, and it’s like the weight of the whole world has been picked up from his shoulders. Shiro looks at him and sees Atlas freed from his chains.

«Come here, Shiro!» Keith yells, stopping to look at him. His face is lit up, his eyes shining and lips bent in a smile, while his shoulders rise and fall quickly with the rhythm of his breath.

Shiro smiles and stands. Keith meets him halfway and holds his hand, dancing with him.

It’s messy and Shiro can’t dance to save his life, but it’s nice and they’re free and he feels like he’s twenty again. He raises his arm and Keith swirls under it, a delighted laugh leaving his mouth. He’s young, and beautiful, and Shiro feels his breath stop in his chest.

Keith trips on his feet and laughs, holding onto Shiro’s arm to face him, and his cheeks are flushed, his skin is soft under Shiro’s hands while Keith rests against his chest.

He’s burning, they’re both burning, and they’re fine with it.

Time stops, Keith’s fast breathing stops.

In his eyes, Shiro sees the turmoil of the storm and he falls.

He doesn’t know who moves first, as he holds onto Keith’s waist like a castaway does with a piece of wood. Keith raises his arms and sinks his fingers in his hair, and maybe he’s the one who moved first because he stands on his tiptoes, pressing his mouth against Shiro’s.

The kiss tastes like tears and rain, like cold and winter turning into spring.

Shiro breathes through his nose and presses their mouths closer, one of his hands raising to hold Keith’s nape, and he feels complete again. Keith doesn’t move away, even when their lungs start to burn and their eyes to water. He gives them the time of a short breath, a short second of relief, and then he’s there again, more desperate this time, hungrier. His hands move to cup Shiro’s face and he’s there, they’re both there and he’s real, Shiro’s real, oh, it’s all real and he still can’t realize it.

It’s Shiro who breaks the kiss this time, and he does it only to move away and cup Keith’s face, fingers running down his features, rediscovering them all over again, a pained and frantic look on his face. They touch his cheekbones, the hollow of his throat, they push his soaked bangs back from his face and brush against his lips, which are warm and red and trembling.

Shiro takes a sharp breath and his eyes sting, tears pouring down his cheeks.

«I thought I had lost you» he murmurs, his voice breaking over and over.

Keith holds his trembling hands and smiles, finally letting go of his barrier and crying.

«I thought the same too» he replies, squeezing his eyes. «I thought the same too, but you’re here now, and nothing else matters.»

Shiro kisses him again and presses their foreheads together, never letting go of him.

«I’ve always been here» he keens, and Keith nods, laughing through tears.

«I know! I know, but it was so difficult, and you were always so kind. While I didn’t even…»

Shiro doesn’t let him finish his sentence.

He kisses him full and long, while the sky cries its tears on the first day of spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yell with me on [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/petitkeef) and [Tumblr](https://petitkeef.tumblr.com)!! ^^


	4. Chapter 4

The sun rises and paints their skin gold, creating games of shadows and lights on the rumpled bed sheets. Shiro opens one eye and turns his head to a side, feeling movement next to him, on his arm. When he looks over, Keith is there, hair disheveled and falling on his face and a small hand holding the bicep that he’s using as a pillow. Keith scrunches his nose when the sun hits him directly in the face with its light, and hides his face against Shiro’s shoulder, his hand slipping across his chest.

Shiro smiles, feeling dizzy and euphoric. He slowly raises his prosthetic and lets it hover over Keith’s head, protecting him from the light. Keith is sleeping soundly and peacefully, and Shiro would rather lose his memory all over again, if it would help Keith rest more.

So he lets him be, resisting? the temptation to kiss him and wake him up like that, relishing the sensation of the warm, springy sun on his skin and the softness of another body pressed against his. Keith has a leg thrown across his; he tugs his arm close to his chest while the other rests against Shiro’s hip, fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt. 

His shoulders move ever so slightly, following the rhythm of his slow breathing, and Shiro can feel the tips of Keith’s hair – still slightly damp, since they forgot to dry it properly the night before- brushing against his neck.

With a content sigh he settles back into bed and lets his own hand rest against Keith’s neck, playing with a strand of raven hair, twisting it between his fingers. Then his eyes wander, and so does his hand: resting warm against Keith’s neck, thumb gently grazing his jaw and his bottom lip, which trembles as Keith sighs and nestles against his shoulder; then Shiro’s hand moves down his chest, feeling the relaxed and strong  _thump, thump, thump_ of his heart, finally settling on Keith’s hip.

Shiro exhales slowly through his mouth and licks his lips, his mouth twitching into a soft smile. 

It feels right, he thinks, pressing his hand against the small of Keith’s back, pulling him closer. It feels right, and it feels nostalgic. Suddenly he’s twenty-five again and he feels young, powerful. He feels like he can take the weight of the world on his shoulders, just like Atlas had done, just like Keith had looked the night before.

His thumb slides under Keith’s shirt and he trembles and stiffens, a breathy moan leaving his mouth. Shiro looks with wide eyes as Keith wakes up, his eyelids covering purple irises more than halfway. «Good morning» he finally murmurs, not daring to remove his hand.

Keith hums a «G’morn» and snuggles closer, anchoring his foot around Shiro’s ankle and laying his head over his chest. Shiro chuckles and lowers his prosthetic hand to run it through Keith’s hair, untangling it. Keith hums again and turns his head to the other side, squinting when the sun hits him in the face. «It’s day» he murmurs, letting his face fall back onto Shiro’s pectoral. 

Shiro hums, his fingers tracing small circles on Keith’s lower back. «Yeah. Want to eat?»

Keith groans and shakes his head, digging his fingers into Shiro’s side. «I want to stay like this. Please.»

Shiro hums and closes his eyes, letting a satisfied smile curl his lips. It’s warm, relaxing. 

It feels familiar and it feels like home, he realises, pieces slowly falling into place. 

He envisions every memory with Keith, trying to grasp the ones that are still too out of reach, the small details. Meanwhile, Keith is warm over him, his back flexing under his hands, his fingers playing across his arm.

He feels eyes observing him, and when he lowers his gaze he sees Keith’s amethyst irises burning with a fire that reminds him of a newborn star. 

With his dark hair framing his pale face, he looks as beautiful as ever.

«So,» Keith murmurs as Shiro’s thumb grazes his cheek, and his eyes flicker dark for a brief second, dying too fast. «Yesterday happened for real. It wasn’t a dream.»

Shiro laughs and smiles, propping his head up with his free arm. «No, it wasn’t. Unless it was a shared dream, and let me tell you, it was a really nice dream.»

Keith rolls his eyes and a timid smile curls his lips, more or less in the same way he curls his fingers into Shiro’s tee. «Dumbass» he mouths, and Shiro sinks his fingers in his hair, tugging jokingly. «C’mon, it was a nice thing to say.»

«Sure it was.»

Keith’s smile grows bigger, a little bolder, but then in just a second he’s shy again, his cheekbones dusted in pink. «Can I..?»

He doesn’t finish his question, but his body is already leaning forward, Shiro’s hand warm and heavy against his neck. Their lips meet once, twice, and their eyes are still half opened, gazes intertwined. They part and Keith’s hands settle on Shiro’s chest, feeling the thrumming of his heart under his right palm.

A gaze, nothing more. A gaze is enough to bring them close once again, and this time Keith closes his eyes as he leans in and breathes into Shiro’s mouth, his lips parting. Shiro follows and holds him, a hand in his hair and the other still behind his head, letting Keith guide the kiss.

It’s easy. Falling in love is easy. 

He slowly opens his eyes and admires Keith’s traits, his sun-kissed skin, and he’s beautiful, and in each gesture Shiro sees his devotion and love, words that are too scary to be said out loud.

So Shiro leans in and worships Keith’s mouth with his once again.

 

If waking up was easy,  _getting up_  results to be much harder. Keith falls asleep again, lamenting a headache that he says is a result of all that crying the night before, and Shiro lets him rest a little longer. After all, he deserves it. Shiro can only hope that he didn’t have to work that morning.

On the other hand he feels too awake to stay in bed, so he decides to finally go and do something productive. 

After a quick shower he goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge, looking for anything that looks edible. He thinks about cooking something for Keith, but food poisoning first thing in the morning sounds like a terrible idea.

He’s still halfway scanning the cupboards for something that doesn’t require him to cook and/or burn the house down, when he hears the soft tapping of naked feet on the floor. 

When he turns around Keith is there, rubbing his eye with a closed fist and yawning. «What’s all the noise?» he murmurs, leaning back.

Shiro just shakes his head and smiles, closing the cupboard door. «Just me looking for something to eat. I didn’t mean to wake you up, I’m sorry.»

Keith shakes a hand mid-air and yawns again, raising his arms to the ceiling to stretch. His shirt rises up his stomach and _oh_ , it is so hard not to look, Shiro thinks.

«I can make us some eggs and bacon» Keith says, padding closer. Shiro moves so that he has room to work, and goes to check his phone. He sees various message icons, mostly from Lance and Pidge, a few from Hunk. The texts go from short, worried tones to angry, then panicked. 

The last message was from that morning, just half an hour before.

«Uh oh» he murmurs, walking back into the kitchen. Keith looks at him from under his disheveled hair, an eyebrow raised. «Is there any problem?» he asks, turning around.

Shiro nods slightly and hands him the phone, sighing. «The others… they are worried. I… forgot to warn them that I’ve found you.»

«Shit.»

Keith runs a hand through his hair and bites his bottom lip. Shiro gently nudges him, smiling. «Call them. They have to know.»

«Lance and Pidge are gonna kill me,» Keith sighs shaking his head.

«I have a feeling they’re gonna kill us anyway. It’s been hours, after all. You disappeared  _yesterday._ »

«You’re not wrong.»

Keith tortures his bottom lip for a few seconds longer, then he taps Lance’s contact name and calls. In the meantime, Shiro turns to the burner and checks the eggs with critical eye, not sure whether he should take them off the fire or not.

Keith nervously taps his fingers on the counter and bites his lip. When Lance answers, his voice is low and angry, furious like he’s never heard him. «Well, look who decided to call.»

Keith gulps and diverts his gaze. «Hey, Lance-»

«Where the fuck were you, Keith? Have you any idea of how we felt?»

«I’m sorry, I- »

«You were gone. Shiro was gone. Pidge had no idea where you were. Hunk and I didn’t have any idea where you were.  _Shiro’s still unstable_ , what if something happened, what if he had another accident and we couldn’t contact him, what if  _you_ had an accident and you were nowhere to be found. We thought about calling the police, we were so scared! Do you have any  _fucking idea_  of how we spent the night?»

No, he doesn’t. Keith lowers his head and bites his lip harder, stepping away from the counter. Shiro has left the eggs to their destiny and has turned to face him, worry clear and transparent as water on his face. Keith runs a hand through his hair and holds back a sigh, a short gasp leaving his mouth anyway. «Lance, I… I’m sorry. I really am. I swear I didn’t want this to happen, I was just… in a bad place and I couldn’t think straight. I’m sorry I ignored all of your calls and messages, I’m sorry I fucked up and I’m sorry I made you lose your sleep because of how stupid I am. If there’s anything I can do to make it better…»

«For starters you can find a way to give me back the ten years of life I lost in a night worrying about you» Lance spits, but he’s already calmer, fury slowly fading from his voice. 

There’s silence on the line for a few seconds, and Keith can hear him breathing, trying to calm down completely. When Lance talks again his voice is strained and rough. 

«Don’t do that again, Keith. You hear me? Next time there’s a problem just come to us. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, just… just come over. I thought something had happened to you, and after Shiro called…»

«Wait, what?»

Keith’s eyes fall onto Shiro, who looks back at him curious and still worried. He’s biting his lip, Keith notices, and a tiny smile forms on his mouth. «I’m sorry, Lance» he repeats, turning his head. «I’m fine, really. We’re both fine. You don’t have to worry.»

«Are you sure? Are you really okay?»

«Cross my heart. We’ve never been better.»

Lance hums and falls silent once again, but Keith can hear him tapping his fingers against something. He does the same, more to relax and find a rhythm, a distraction. It works. 

Lance lets out a breathy laugh and a strained sob, and Keith can’t understand anymore whether he’s laughing or crying. «Fuck. Just…  _fuck_. The two of you are gonna be the death of me. Of all of us.»

«You are one to talk,» Keith replies, chuckling. Lance sniffs and hums, talking away from the phone to who Keith can only imagine is Hunk.

«Hunk wants to talk to you. Is that okay?»

«Of course it is. Hand him the phone.»

There’s a bit of noise when Lance walks over to Hunk, a few, curt steps and something dragging across the floor, before the phone is in Hunk’s safe hands. «Hey, Keith? Still there, buddy?»

«Yeah, I’m here,» he replies, leaning against the wall. His head hurts and his eyes sting, and when he runs a finger under them he sees that his pad is wet. 

«I’m sorry for making you all worry. I didn’t mean to.»

«You didn’t mean to, but it happened. You weren’t gone for ten minutes, y’know» Hunk replies. There’s no excuse in his voice, and Keith feels those words digging deep into his heart, making him feel like the piece of shit he is.

Hunk’s words hit him right to his core, and he’s left open and bleeding. 

«I’m sorry» he whispers, lowering his head. Shiro moves closer and touches his arm, but Keith lets it fall limply to his side, defeated. «I’m sorry, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to…»

«Hey, it’s okay,» Hunk reassures him. «I’m sorry too. And I’m sorry for not being there when you needed us the most. Just… know that we’re here for everything, alright? You and Shiro are not alone in this. We’re your friends, aren’t we? You can trust us. Do you want to come over for dinner this evening? I know we’ve been together only two days ago, but I feel like we all need it. We have ice cream, movies and free hugs.»

His voice is gentle, nice, it reminds Keith why he considers him his friend. Hunk can stab you a hundred times with his words and make you feel like the worst piece of shit on earth, but then he will make you feel like the greatest person a hundred and one times more.

«Yes,» he murmurs smiling. «Yes, we will.»

«Hm, that’s great» Hunk is smiling, he can hear it in his voice. «I’m glad you’re both okay. I hope you rested well, because we sure as hell didn’t.»

A small chuckle escapes Keith’s lips and he wipes his eyes, finally leaning into Shiro’s touch. «Yeah… we did. I’m really sorry.»

It’s Hunk’s turn to chuckle, and then he sighs. «Good, then. I think we’ll both go to sleep here, we really need it. See you in a few hours.»

Keith breathes hard and ends the call, resting his back against the wall. He can feel Shiro’s finger run up and down his arm, and he smiles grateful. 

«And one call is made,» Shiro murmurs, smiling against his temple. Keith hums and turns into his hug, his head against Shiro’s neck. «I still have to call Pidge» he replies, voice just as soft. «She’s gonna kill me. I can already hear her screaming - and I know I deserve it.»

«You kinda do, kinda don’t» Shiro replies, and receives a weak punch to his chest that makes him laugh. 

Keith moves away and he looks calm, a burning light into his violet eyes. Then he furrows his eyebrows and looks around, his hand never leaving Shiro’s bicep. «What’s this smell?»

Shiro blinks; then he gasps, turning around to the burner. «The  _eggs_!»

 

Pidge does scream when Keith calls her after breakfast; mostly cries, but Shiro can still hear her sobbing and whimpering through the closed door. 

Keith asked for some privacy for that second call, and Shiro had walked out the room immediately, leaving him some space. So now he tries to distract himself from Pidge’s voice that keeps ringing into his head, together with her sobs and Keith’s and his voice that goes down, down, raw and fragile as he talks.

When Keith finally walks out from his room his eyes and cheeks are red from all the crying and he looks spent. He drags his feet to the couch and Shiro instinctively moves to make room. 

Keith flops against the armrest and closes his eyes, his head lulling on top of his closed fist, a tired sigh leaving his parted lips.

«How did it go?» Shiro asks, muting the TV he had turned on just to kill time, watching some cooking program he had no interest in. He slowly sits and crosses his legs, his left hand reaching out for Keith’s elbow since he still doesn’t know where they fit; what he’s allowed to do and what’s still too early for, where the border between them stands.

Keith shrugs and tugs Shiro’s hand into his lap, playing with his fingers, carefully pinching them and running the tips of his fingers down his knuckles. «I’ve never heard her scream like that» he murmurs. His voice is weak and raw from crying, and Shiro’s heart squeezes in his chest.

Keith tugs his knees to his chest but doesn’t let go of Shiro’s hand, clasping it tight and intertwining their fingers. «She said… things. About me. She said that I’m… a selfish piece of shit and I don’t think about others. It’s just…» He shrugs, with an uneasiness that makes Shiro’s heart clench in his chest. «Maybe she's right. She always is, after all.»

«Keith,» Shiro calls, and it's pained and sorrowful. Keith smiles sadly and diverts his gaze, eyes now fixed on the ceiling. «Fuck, I'd never thought it would be this difficult even after…»

He stops to lick his lips, and hunches forward with a sigh. «I'm sorry, I'm just…»

«Hey, it's okay.»

Shiro gently frees his hand from Keith's grasp, and tugs him closer. Keith curls against him and his hand closes around the fabric of Shiro's shirt, trembling slightly.

«It was my fault» he whispers, eyes mad and burning. «It’s my fault if you’re here like this.»

«Keith, you’re not- »

«But  _I am_!» Keith shrieks, and he trembles so hard Shiro doesn’t know what to do, what to say. Keith tucks his head down and curls on himself. He looks small. He looks fragile, and Shiro is afraid that if he touches him, he’ll crumble with no going back.

Keith swallows and tugs at Shiro’s shirt, knuckles white. «I was there with you in the car, when you had the accident, we were arguing, about something stupid that I can’t remember anymore. I saw it all, and I saw you. I saw you pushing me aside when- when the car in the other lane tried to pass you and you slipped on the wet road and...»

He shakes his head and his small hands tug at his hair; Shiro quickly catches them before he hurts himself. He sees red lines where Keith’s nails have dug, and he caresses them with the tip of his fingers. There are tears in Keith’s eyes, he’s holding them back with all he has, and Shiro hates himself for being the cause of that pain. 

«Keith...» he calls, and Keith shakes his head, shoving a hand against his mouth. He hides behind his hair and Shiro kisses his forehead, unable to do differently. 

«It wasn’t your fault» he whispers again, and Keith whimpers.

«Everything was so hard» he murmurs, swallowing weakly and with the corners of his lips still curved in that sad smile. «I was in the hospital as well, did you know? I hit my head when I fell, there was a bleeding gash on my arm. They wouldn’t let me see you, and when I finally could you just… when I was told that you had forgotten everything, I… felt the world crumbling around me. I couldn't breathe, everything was dark and I…»

Shiro has a faint memory of it: Keith's purple eyes, filled with tears as his face paled, his body curling on itself and falling among faceless doctors.

Keith lets a small, rasping laugh out and closes his eyes. «It felt like losing my dad all over again. I was broken. For a long time» he breathes, and Shiro doesn’t know what to reply to that.

Keith holds back a sob and raises his hands to his face, rubbing it with his fists. «I… thought about what to do for a long time. Thought whether I should tell you the truth or not. I didn't know what to do and Lance and Hunk were worried, I wouldn’t eat and I spent every possible moment with you…»

«Keith,» Shiro says, and it's a pained call, almost a prayer. Keith looks up at him and cups his face with a fresh palm, shaking his head. «I couldn't tell you. It was… too much. For the both of us. You would have had to act like you loved me, just to protect an “ _us_ ” that didn't exist anymore, and I… we would have suffered both. So, I decided to play dumb. Acted like it was nothing, like  _we_ were nothing.»

«So you said that we were just flatmates. That’s why Pidge and Lance were so confused when they took me here for the first time… the house was different from what they remembered.»

Keith nods and a trembling sigh leaves his lips. «It was all to protect you. I moved all the furniture, put away all the photos. I moved an old bed we had in the garage to the room you used as your art study, and put everything you had in my room, all so that you wouldn’t feel forced to love me. So that you wouldn't even find out about it. I was okay with that. I was okay with you meeting a nice girl or boy and fall in love with them, because I knew I couldn’t ask you to be who you were before. I just wanted to keep you safe and make you feel like you were in a place you could call home, and yet…»

Shiro says nothing and lets him talk, talk until Keith’s out of breath and his eyes are full of tears again, looking up at him, pleading, begging. Shiro slowly raises his hand and lays it against Keith’s cheek, feeling him shiver and breathe, seeing him close his eyes as he leans into the touch.

It’s intimate, and it’s the closest they’ve ever been. Closer than the previous night at their secret place, closer than when they slept in the same bed. Now, in the silence of their house, Shiro sees Keith open his chest wide in front of him and bare his bleeding self to his careful hands. And it’s warm. Keith’s self is warm and burning between his fingers, and it’s alive and beautiful. It’s as powerful as a dying star as Keith entrusts his whole being to Shiro’s hand, undoubtedly and trusting. And so Shiro takes him.

Keith opens his eyes and he’s human in the way he leans into his touch and in the soft sob he lets out, he's beautiful and he loves him.

And Shiro's not sure, but he thinks he loves him too.

Gently, Shiro moves his thumb dragging it across his cheek, and Keith looks up at him, tears now running freely down his face. Shiro smiles and bumps their foreheads together, Keith breathing against his lips and moving closer, his fingers curled in Shiro’s hair to keep him there. 

Their hearts beat in unison, and their souls cry together, just to keep them close, to bring them closer.

_Please, stay._

_I’m right here._

_Don’t go._

_I’m not going anywhere._

Keith kisses him and Shiro closes his eyes, moving his lips against Keith’s. It’s soft, and warm, and he tastes like mint toothpaste. Shiro circles Keith’s hips with an arm and caresses his lower back, right where he remembers that he’s more sensitive, and Keith hums against his mouth.

They part, and Keith still has his eyes closed. Shiro gently runs a hand down his neck and watches as Keith’s eyes flutter open, glassy and purple and beautiful. 

«I love you,» he murmurs, shaking his head softly. «I love you so much it  _hurts._ »

«I know, baby,» Shiro whispers, and kisses him again.

Keith lies down against his chest, and they don’t talk for a while.

 

❋❋❋

 

April comes and the streets fill with colours, people hang flags from their balconies, in their shops. Keith tells Shiro that it’s for a basketball match, a really important one, but neither of them are interested enough to buy the tickets. Lance, on the contrary, is enthusiastic. 

«You can’t  _not_ be hyped for this match, bro! The Voltron Lions haven’t won against the Galra Stars in over a decade! It’ll be the match of the century!» he says once.

Shiro is no expert in basketball, but he’s sure that it won’t be the “match of the century,” and Keith agrees.

While Keith is working at the café or at the bar, Shiro starts studying again. He takes his books from the shelves in Keith’s room and brings them back into his, sitting on the bed and running through the thick pages covered in thin lines of words, taking notes on his computer or on a small notebook he always keeps on the bedside table.

One day he decides to go to the café. He doesn’t tell Keith, because he knows he will tell him something along the lines of “Don’t come when I work, you distract me.”

It’s an utter lie, because Keith stands there, behind the counter, with the chocolate brown and pastel pink apron with the café logo on the front, his hair tucked behind his ears and a soft smile on his lips, his eyes shining as purple as ever as he says «Good morning, sir.»

Shiro, on the other hand, stands on the doorstep and he can’t avoid looking at him, at the way he looks so small in his white shirt and the apron, at the way his hair curls a little against his neck, at the smile curving his lips.

Shiro is so madly in love.

He nods and smiles back, and takes place at a round table facing the counter. Keith is next to him in just a few seconds, but when Shiro opens his mouth to order something he raises his hand. «Nope. It’s a surprise. Trust me on this.»

Shiro does. How can he not. His smile grows bigger and he lowers his gaze, subtly pressing a hand against Keith’s hip. «Surprise me, then» he murmurs, and Keith grins.

He disappears behind the counter, and Shiro waits. He sees Allura on the other side of the room, taking two clients’ orders, and waves at her with a smile. She smiles back and pats his shoulder as she walks next to him.

The atmosphere is nice. Keith looks relaxed; he looks happy. When he comes back he holds a fuming cup of Toasted Marshmallow Cream Hot Chocolate, and he puts it down on the table. «It’s on the house, if you like it» he says, grinning.

Shiro smiles and runs his fingers down the warm side of the cup, raising his head. «What if I don’t like it?» he replies softly.

Keith shrugs and pulls at the collar of his shirt. «That’s not a problem, because I know that you will» he says simply, walking away.

Shiro hums and holds back a laugh at the way Keith eyes him. Slowly, he moves his fingers around the handle of the cup and raises it to his lips.

Keith wasn’t wrong, that cheeky bastard. It’s delicious, and a cascade of memories fill his head, with lazy Saturday evenings in their small living room, socked feet resting on the table and warm cups filled to the brick with chocolate.

Shiro is also pretty sure that the recipe for that specific drink isn’t even on the menu, and Keith has made it just for him. The thought warms his heart and a big, big smile almost forms on his face. But still, Shiro tries to keep his expression as neutral as possible - he doesn’t want to give Keith the satisfaction yet.

Eventually, Keith has to pay attention to the other clients. If Shiro distracts him, he hides it well. Shiro observes the way he moves around, fast, sure, like he owns the place; he notices the way he offers reserved smiles to the girls who act a little too unabashedly and the way he reprimands a couple of middle schoolers who left a mess on their table - not harsh, just firm.

He’s gorgeous.

Shiro doesn’t leave, not even when his cup is empty and cold, and all the people around him stand from their seats and pay for their drinks. Instead he takes his notebook, and the pen he always keeps with him; he opens the notebook to a white page and starts sketching. 

The outlines of Keith’s body, his slim but strong arms, his straight back; then the soft bow of his lips, and his small nose, his black and messy hair.

He sketches and then he draws, with a hand that is still not so sure about what it’s doing, but still follows invisible lines, rediscovering them as if it has known them forever. The weight of the pen is almost foreign between his fingers as he moves its tip across the page, but the lines he traces are precise, defined.

When he’s done, he holds his breath and looks at the drawing he’s just made, and it feels foreign and familiar at the same time. He sees Keith in those lines and he sees himself, a himself from the past, who is slowly coming back to life.

Finally, he stands. He tucks the drawing between two bills that he pushes in Keith’s hand. 

«It was too good of a hot chocolate for it to be on the house,» he says as an explanation, and even he knows it’s bullshit, because the first thing Keith will do once he comes back home will be putting those same bills back into Shiro’s wallet, but at that point he doesn’t even care anymore.

Keith takes the bills and looks at him with burning eyes, as he murmurs a «Thank you, sir.» 

Shiro smiles tiredly and walks outside.

When he’s out of Keith’s view, he lets those tears of joy he’s been holding finally roll down his face.

 

Keith comes back home a few hours later, his breath laboured and cheeks aflame, looking like he’s just run miles, although he’s just made the ten meters from the garage where he keeps his bike to the door. Shiro looks up at him from where he’s sitting on the floor, surrounded by his old drawings, which he found tucked carefully behind Keith’s clothes.

Keith’s holding his drawing. He keeps the sheet of paper close to his heart and his lips tremble ever so slightly, his eyes wet. «You drew me,» he murmurs, sounding like he can’t quite believe it.

Shiro smiles and nods, moving his old drawings away. There’s one where Keith is asleep on his textbook, another where he’s smiling, there’s a photo of him sitting on a tall stool, with just a white, paint-covered shirt on.

«Do you like it?» he asks, as Keith sits next to him and crosses his legs. Keith nods and lowers his gaze on the drawing, the tips of his fingers tracing the dark lines. 

«It had been so long…» he murmurs, resting his head onto Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro circles his waist with an arm and kisses his hair, still kept in a small bun. «I used to draw you a lot» he says, grazing the sheets on the floor with his fingers. There are so many of them… he’s sure that if he checked, he would find one for every memory of them together. Every happy second, forever preserved into paper and pen, sometimes in colours.

«You  _loved_  to draw me,» Keith murmurs with a soft smile on his face. He lowers his gaze on the drawing he still holds in his hand. «You still do, apparently.»

«I thought it would be more difficult,» Shiro replies, sighing. «I mean… I haven’t drawn in ages. Who knows when the last time was, before… before the accident.»

«Not long» Keith says, his voice tightening, barely trembling. «You had… drawn me the day before or so. It was beautiful, but you kept saying that something was amiss. You wanted to throw it away, you always did that when you weren’t satisfied with your drawings.»

«Did I throw it away?»

Keith hesitates. «You did. But I got it back. After… I came back here. I needed to hold onto everything that reminded me of you.»

Silently he stands. Shiro watches him walk away to his room and doesn’t stop him, giving him space. His eyes fall back onto the picture of Keith on the stool, his eyes like magnetic amethysts, his hair disheveled and lips red. He’d been kissing him. 

Shiro traces the invisible line of Keith’s plum lip and gulps, moving his gaze away.

He feels like he’s intruding into someone else’s life; someone’s memories, too. Keith’s memories and Shiro’s old self’s. He knows he’s taken that photo, too, if he concentrates hard enough he thinks that he can feel the weight of the camera in his hands. But does he have the right to keep that memory?

Keith comes back and drags him away from his bad thoughts. Between his hands he holds a crumpled sheet of paper, hastily flattened. Shiro takes it without a word, and recognises the same shapes, the same curves and shades. It’s a drawing of the photo he was staring at, almost a copy of it from how perfect it is. Shiro runs his finger across the curve of Keith’s drawn cheek, and feels his eyes burning holes on him.

«Why didn’t I like it?» Shiro asks, raising his head. 

Keith shrugs and leans against him, sighing. «You said that it didn’t feel alive… that copying from a picture rather than reality made it look too artificial. I thought it was beautiful, but you wouldn’t listen.»

Shiro nods. He understands, he thinks, but when he looks at the drawing he doesn’t recognise that thought. The paper feels heavy and foreign in his hands and he doesn’t like it.

«Shiro?» Keith calls him with a soft, worried voice, and Shiro raises his head. 

Keith cups his cheek and tilts his head to a side, worried. «Are you okay?»

«I…»

Shiro diverts his gaze, his fingers trembling. He doesn’t know. There’s a hole in his chest which grows bigger as he breathes, void filling him, and there is white noise playing in his head.

Wrong. That drawing feels so wrong, and he only now realises this.

«I want to try,» he murmurs, holding Keith’s hand in his. Keith looks at him confused, and Shiro smiles, raising his hand holding the drawing. «I want to try doing this again. But… I want to do it with you, this time.»

Keith understands, and he smiles. His smile lights a fire in the void Shiro feels in his chest.

 

Shiro takes all the brushes in his hands, weighing them, he touches the paint cans and brings them to his nose, smelling the strong scent of acrylics, feeling the surface of his oil pastels. Slowly, he grows accustomed once again to the instruments he’s been using for months, for years, to draw. To draw Keith.

Shiro looks across his room and sees him moving the tall stool by the window.

He’s only wearing his boxers and a white shirt he took from Shiro’s dresser. It looks huge on him, the sleeves reaching way past his fingers and the hem brushing against his thighs. 

Shiro thinks about all the times he’s seen him with sweaters he thought were too big to be his, and realizes that for all that time, Keith must have taken them from his closet.

With a sigh Keith sits onto the stool and turns to face him, his cheeks pink and eyes timid. 

Shiro smiles and moves closer, caressing his cheek. Keith turns his head and kisses his palm, his eyes closed. «I love you,» he murmurs, holding him close. 

Shiro kisses him, long and sweet. He holds his face and presses their foreheads together, Keith’s arms sliding around his shoulders. «I love you too, Keith» he murmurs, and Keith smiles shyly.

«I want you to paint on me» he whispers, running his hand through Shiro’s hair, pushing it back. «I want your hands all over me. Please, Shiro…»

«Okay… okay.»

Shiro holds him close a second longer, and kisses the tip of his fingers. Keith smiles and watches as he takes a brush and paint cans. Shiro dips the tip of the brush in yellow paint, raises it to Keith’s neck and paints a thin line from his chin to between his collarbones. Keith tilts his head back, exposing his long neck and closing his eyes, and Shiro can’t resist. He leans forward and kisses his Adam’s apple, and Keith giggles. «Stop that…»

Shiro smiles. «I’m sorry.»

He takes more paint, blue this time. He pushes the shirt off Keith’s shoulder and places another kiss there, lingering against the warm skin. Keith’s breath hitches and Shiro smiles, moving away. He paints a long line from his shoulder, down his chest, to his side, and there he stops. 

He mirrors it on the other shoulder and presses his lips against Keith’s chest.

Keith’s chest gets covered in paint and colours, and Shiro kisses every patch of skin he can find. There’s green paint on Keith’s hand, and there’s green paint in Shiro’s hair as Keith sinks his fingers in it. There’s red above his heart, purple across his belly and more yellow on his face.

Shiro kisses him, soft and pliant, and Keith’s painted fingers tug at his hair, holding him closer and breathing into his mouth. Shiro hums and slides his hands across Keith’s back, under his shirt, across his painted body and Keith whimpers. «Shiro…»

«I got you, I’m here.»

«Shiro…» Keith wails and Shiro caresses his cheeks, kissing his forehead. 

«You’re beautiful» he murmurs, smiling. Keith smiles back and kisses him again. «I love you.»

«I love you too, Keith.»

«I love you…»

Shiro holds him between his arms and hushes his cries, kissing his tears away.

Keith is a sun.

He burns, and he’s beautiful. Shiro holds him close, and burns with him. 

 

❋❋❋

 

«So, how are things between you and Keith?»

«They are good. Perfect, actually. It feels… nice.»

«Mh, that’s good.»

Pidge taps the buttons on her controller, watching as the character on her TV screen moves to get new ammo from under a table. Shiro watches, sitting next to her, waiting for his turn.

It’s not the first time he goes to Pidge’s. He’s been there a couple times, Pidge and Keith had said it could’ve helped him remember something of his past. 

And after all, the Holts had known him since he was a baby.

Pidge’s house is small, considering that it’s inhabited by three people. When Shiro had said that, Pidge had just shrugged. «We don’t really spend that much time at home, with dad working all day long at their research center and Matt always abroad» she’d commented, and taken the two PS3 controller with a sly grin. «But that also means that we can play  _Mortal Kombat_  and swear all we want, and no one will come here to check what’s going on.»

It’s full of video games, that house. Shiro counts at least two hundred titles, for many different consoles. He once asked if they’d played them all, and Pidge had just snickered. 

«Of course we did. We still gotta finish the extra missions in some of them though.»

Rover, the Holts’ house cat, brushes against Shiro’s knee and he looks down, caressing his back with the palm of his hand. The cat turns his big head and sniffs at his fingers, walking to sit onto Pidge’s crossed legs. She groans and raises her arms as her character dies, stretching her tired shoulders. «Gosh, I’ve gotten so bad at this, it’s been ages since the last time I played seriously» she mutters, handing the controller to Shiro and running her fingers through Rover’s gray-ish brown hairs.

Shiro smiles and taps on the buttons, starting the game from the last saving point. 

«You’ll disappoint detective Castellanos like this» he replies, picking up the same ammo Pidge had found during the previous game. «He just wishes to find his daughter.»

«Do you know where he can stick his wishes» Pidge sighs, furrowing her brows. «I wish Matt and I had more time to play together. He’s back, but he’s always working on his thesis or studying. Sometimes he doesn’t even come back home for the night and sleeps at the lab. You haven’t even met yet, and he’s been here for ages.»

«Hey, he has more important things to do than meet me» Shiro replies, sending her a glance. 

She shrugs and hugs Rover to her chest, getting an indignant mewl out of him. 

«He’s your friend. He might help you get your memories back, and yet…»

«He’s working to create himself a future, Pidge. He’s not doing it out of spite» Shiro mutters. 

His character grabs his rifle and kills a monster, but he’s not fast enough and the energy bar reaches the zero. Shiro restarts the game. «I don’t blame him, to be honest.»

«You don’t?»

«Friends come and go, it’s nothing new. The school you attend, and the results you make… those will really determine what you will be in the future. He’s just being careful.»

Pidge is silent, still caressing Rover’s back. «Would you say that, even if it was Keith instead of Matt?» she asks then, kissing the cat’s head. Shiro sighs. «If the situation was exactly the same? Then probably, yes. I would be curious, I am even now, but I’d leave him his space. After all, he didn’t even want to tell me that we were dating before the accident occurred.»

Pidge is silent for a few seconds, her gaze lost. «You know he didn’t do that because he wanted to» she murmurs, looking at him. Shiro sighs. «I do. But it still hurt when I found out. When I remembered about him, and about me… it hurt knowing that he wanted to keep it a secret. Even if I knew why he was doing that.»

Pidge hums, and lets Rover down. «I’m gonna get some water. Do you want some?»

«Yeah, sure.»

She stands, and Shiro distractedly listens to the pit-a-pat of her feet on the wooden floor. 

Just when the water starts running down the faucet, the front door opens, and Shiro sees a mass of brown hair, almost identical to Pidge’s.

He recognises him from the photos he’s seen scattered around in Pidge’s house, and from the vague memories of his past self. Matt doesn’t notice him immediately, too busy taking off his shoes. But when he raises his head, that’s when his face lights up, despite the clear tiredness and the dark bags under his eyes. «Shiro,» he calls comforted, and Shiro smiles back. 

«Hey, Matt. Nice to see you.»

His smile grows bigger and he steps closer, raising a hand. Shiro clasps it with his, and Matt laughs. «God, it’s been… forever since the last time I saw you. How are you? Your memory? Gosh, I-I really wanted to come see you earlier, but I’ve been so busy since I came back here…»

«Matt, it’s okay, you don’t have to apologise» Shiro stops him, still smiling. 

Matt nods, his eyes a bit watery. «I thought about sending you a message, after, you know, I found out. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it… I thought, what if he doesn’t reply? What if I just make things worse? Shit, I wanted to come back…»

«You’re here now, that’s all that matters» Shiro says, and Matt sighs, grinning. «Yeah. It is.»

Pidge walks back inside the living room with two glasses of water and a box of chips under her arm, and her face lights up when she notices her brother. «You’re back home, finally!» she exclaims, putting everything down and running to tackle him. Matt laughs and pats her back, still grinning. «I managed to do all I had to quickly, there’s Nyma doing the rest.»

Pidge huffs and sits back onto the couch, crossing her legs. «We were playing a video game. Wanna join us?»

«What game is it?»

« _The Evil Within 2_. We’re playing it again, we want to clear all secondary missions.»

Matt groans and sits next to her, crossing his arms. «Fuck, I’ve been wanting to play this game for ages, and now you tell me that you’re starting it _again_? You promised to wait for me.»

«And you promised you’d come back home with pizza. Unless you’ve hidden it in your hoodie, I doubt you’ve brought any with you.»

«You’re an evil gremlin.»

«Karma works in mysterious ways.»

Shiro snickers and hands Matt the controller, smiling. «You’re lucky, we’re basically at the beginning of the game. You haven’t missed much.»

«I guess I should be grateful for that,» Matt sighs taking the controller and restarting the game.

 

Shiro stays until late that night. Sam Holt comes back around half past eight and finds them still playing the game, yelling and cursing while Matt’s fast fingers fly over the buttons, trying to defeat the first, serious boss.  _Sam_  has brought pizza, Pidge makes Matt notice with snarky remarks, and Matt throws a pillow at her face, just to jump on his feet and beg pardon when he sees her glasses flying to the other side of the room.

They all eat pizza in the messy kitchen of the Holts, between old notes and photocopies. 

Then, Matt, Shiro and Pidge go back to the living room to continue playing, defeat the boss and eat more junk food to celebrate.

«This all feel so normal, it’s almost like nothing happened» Matt murmurs, tapping the buttons of the controller. Shiro hums next to him, pointing at ammo inside a cabinet. «You almost missed that.»

«Oh, thank you.»

Matt gets the ammo and sits back, silent. Pidge is curled against the arm rest, Rover spread across her lap and glasses a little bent on her nose. She’s fallen asleep about half an hour before, and Shiro and Matt let her, lowering the volume of the game.

Matt curses under his voice as he fights against the umpteenth monster and fails. 

With a groan he lets the controller fall in his lap, and Shiro pats his knee. «We’ve played enough for today, don’t force yourself too much.»

«Yeah, yeah I won’t.»

Matt rubs his eyes with two fingers and yawns, stretching his arms above his head. 

«Shit, I missed all of this» he murmurs, eyeing his sleeping sister and the cat, the game still playing in the background and Shiro. «When I found out you’d had an accident, I almost didn’t believe it. It felt so unreal… how long has it been?»

Shiro smiles bitterly and diverts his gaze, caressing Rover’s back. «It’s been almost seven months, now» he replies softly, and Matt hums. 

«It’s already been that long… how is your memory doing?»

«It’s coming back in bits and pieces. I can remember most of the last few years, with some gaps here and there. I’m still trying to sort out my childhood and adolescence, but it’s hard.»

Rover yawns and turns his head, and Shiro pokes his tiny nose with a finger. 

Matt looks at him and crosses his ankles. «We have lots of pictures and videos here… I’m sure that your family in Japan has something from your holidays there.»

Shiro smiles and rubs behind Rover’s ear, making him purr. 

«Keith helped me get in contact with them long ago. It was… weird. Talking Japanese and all…»

«Do you really remember how to speak it?»

«Yeah. The doctor said it’s because my procedural memory wasn’t damaged.»

«Ooh… well, that’s good. Learning to do everything again would’ve been a hassle. It must be hard already as it is.»

Shiro smiles as Rover climbs onto his lap, his tiny paws against his chest, and lowers his head to press his nose against the cats’. «It is… but I have Keith, and my friends to help me. And now I have you too.»

«Right.»

Matt smiles and sighs, gazing at his sister. «I was so worried for her» he murmurs, shuffling closer to caress her hair. Pidge grumbles and turns her head, and Matt carefully takes off her glasses, placing them onto the table. «She’s a strong person, you know? But sometimes she just… breaks down. After you got into that accident she was feeling so bad… she called me in tears, totally panicky, saying that you were in a coma and that you were badly injured, and there was no knowing if you would ever wake up again.»

He purses his lips and lowers his head, sighing. «I hadn’t seen her in such a bad condition since mom died» he murmurs, holding Pidge’s hand.

Shiro hums and lowers his head. Rover purrs against his chest, and he caresses his back. «I’m sorry for having caused this much pain.»

«Don’t you ever say that again, Shiro» Matt growls, and turns his head to him. 

«We’ve known you since we were children. My sister has always looked up to you as an older brother, and she loves you as such. We’d do anything for you, and you know it.»

«I know,» Shiro smiles. «Thank you, Matt.»

Matt smiles back and shakes his head. «We love you, Shiro. Don’t forget it.»

Shiro laughs. «I won’t, this time.»

Matt chuckles and caresses Pidge’s hair again, while Shiro takes the controller back and tries to win the fight against the enemy.

After a few minutes they hear the doorbell, and Matt stands to see who it is. Shiro checks his phone and sees a couple missed calls from Keith and a message telling him that he’s coming to get him, and stands as well.

«I’m sorry for intruding Matt, Shiro… I tried to call him but he wouldn’t answer.»

«Don’t worry Keith, he’s fine. We were just too caught up in the game, I’m sorry we didn’t call to let you know.»

Keith stands on the doorsteps, curled inside one of Shiro’s sweaters and his eyes low, timid. When he sees Shiro he lights up and smiles at him, raising a hand. «Hey.»

«Hey.» Shiro smiles and walks to him, holding his hand. 

«I’m sorry I didn’t answer, I had my phone on mute» he murmurs, and Keith shakes his head. «It’s okay, I would’ve come anyways to get you.»

Shiro’s smile grows bigger and Matt sighs, smiling. «You two are disgustingly sweet, I think you should go before I die of diabetes» he says dramatically, and Keith chuckles. 

«I’m sorry for bothering you at this time. We need to catch up sometime.»

Matt flashes him a smile and gives him a double thumbs up. «Sure thing, buddy.»

They hear shuffling from the living room and Rover pats inside the hall, followed by a sleepy Pidge. «You were going without saying goodbye» she mutters, hiding a yawn behind her hand. She flops against Matt, who circles her tiny shoulders with an arm. 

«I thought you were asleep» he says, and his sister grunts. «I was. Rover walked over my face.»

Shiro laughs and pats her messy hair, earning another grunt from her. 

«Good night, Pidge. Don’t stay up too late, I count on your brother to check on you.»

«I don’t need him.»

«Yes you do.»

«Shut up, Matt.»

Keith smiles and murmurs a «Good night,» and he and Shiro step out of the house.

Shiro swings their hands together and smiles down at him, and Keith sighs exasperated. «Don’t be so eager» he murmurs, and Shiro laughs. 

«I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just that I misse- mph.»

Keith stands on his tiptoes and kisses him, circling his neck with his free arm. 

Shiro’s hand sneaks his way against his hip and holds him close, smiling against his mouth. «I missed you» he whispers, and Keith kisses him again. «I missed you too, you dumb idiot.»

Shiro practically beams, and Keith has to hide his dumb fourth-grader blush, dragging him away. When he reaches the car he halts though, and slowly turns towards Shiro, who’s stopped a few steps behind. «Are you okay with taking the car?» he asks slowly, holding his hand tighter.

Shiro moves his eyes away from the car and smiles, although a little strained. 

«I am okay, Keith. You don’t have to worry.»

But Keith does, and bites into his lower lip so hard Shiro fears he might make it bleed. 

«I’m so sorry Shiro, I didn’t think… I was tired and didn’t think much of it, we can go by foot and I’ll get the car tomorrow morning…» he shakes his head and Shiro envelopes him in a hug, caressing his back. «It’s okay, Keith» he whispers into his ear, feeling him tremble. 

Keith hooks his arms around Shiro’s middle and squeezes, afraid he might go. 

«I’m sorry» he mutters again, and Shiro kisses his forehead. «I’ll be fine Keith, you don’t have to worry» he reassures him, taking his face between his hands. «I’ll be with you, won’t I? Nothing bad will happen to me, I’m sure of it.»

Keith shivers and breathes hard against his neck and clutches at his shirt, dragging him closer. «Are you sure about that?»

Shiro furrows his brows, and caresses his nape with the flat of a hand. «Of course I am.»

Keith hums and rests his head against his collarbone, his breathing still a little shaken, his skin cold. «Alright,» he murmurs, raising his head with a tight smile. «Alright.»

Shiro caresses his cheek and Keith nuzzles against his palm, turning his head to kiss his hand. Slowly, Shiro drags him closer and touches their foreheads together, his warmth reassuring. 

Keith raises his head and looks at him, biting his lip. 

«Can I kiss you?» he whispers. Shiro smiles, and does it for him.

 

Keith closes his eyes and tilts his head back, letting Shiro wash his hair. His hand is delicate and warm, sliding against his neck in gentle caresses. Shiro presses his lips against his nape and kisses him there, circling his hips with his arm. Keith turns his head and blindly searches his cheek with his lips, finding Shiro’s mouth instead when he moves.

Shiro smiles in the kiss and Keith raises his hand, caressing his nape. 

«How’s your arm?» he asks, opening his eyes. Shiro moves his stump and smiles, resting his head against Keith’s. «It’s okay. It hurts every now and then, but the prosthetic helps.»

Keith shuffles in the water and kneels between Shiro’s legs, pushing his own hair back with a wet hand. His eyes then fall onto Shiro’s amputated arm and he raises his hand hesitantly. 

«Can I..?»

Shiro smiles and holds his hand, putting it against his shoulder. Keith gently slides his fingers down, over the twitching muscles and the scarred tissue, and raises his head, worried. 

«Does it hurt?»

«No, it doesn’t.»

Keith hums and moves his hand away, letting it fall in his lap. «I’m so sorry» he murmurs lowering his head, and Shiro furrows his head. 

«Why would you be?»

Keith opens and closes his mouth and shrugs, leaning against his chest. 

«I’m cold…» he murmurs, closing his eyes. Shiro shuffles closer and cradles him against his chest, kissing his wet hair. Keith’s body is covered in goose bumps and he’s slightly trembling; Shiro places his hand against the small of his back and kisses his nose, smiling. «Better now?» he asks. Keith nods curling his hand against Shiro’s chest. «Thank you» he murmurs, raising his head.

Shiro smiles and kisses him on the lips, caressing his back under the water in a slow dragging of fingers that makes Keith tremble again. He moves his hand over his chest, feeling the ribs under the soft, thin skin, and he kisses them one by one, in awe, worshipping Keith’s body in all ways he knows.

There are two tattoos on his hips, two constellations he’s not sure he recognises. 

He traces the lines that connect the small stars on Keith’s right side, and Keith sighs, looking at him with loving eyes. Shiro returns the gaze and kisses his chest, above his heart. 

«Do you want to tell me about these?» he asks, caressing the tattoos once again.

Keith laughs and runs a hand between his hair. He looks soft, so soft and pliant under the bathroom light, under Shiro’s touch. His fingers run down the side of Shiro’s face, then tracing his lips and resting against his cheek. «They’re Lyra and Aquila» he murmurs, leaning against him and pressing his forehead against Shiro’s. «You told me about them, when we first met. You told me the story of Altair and Vega, the two brightest stars that can only meet on the night of the seventh day of July.»

«Tanabata,» Shiro smiles and raises his hand to caress Keith’s hair. 

«That’s a Japanese festival… I remember the lights in Tokyo, that time I went… the people in their kimonos, the wishes written in small pieces of paper hanging from the bamboo…»

«You told me we’d go, one day» Keith whispers and presses his lips against Shiro’s forehead. «One day… after I graduated and you had your second exhibit, you told me you’d take me to Japan and we’d see the fireworks.»

«We’d eat caramel apples and sweets, and play traditional games in the stands by the street» Shiro remembers, caressing Keith’s hip. «You’d try to speak Japanese, and you’d get lost in your words. You’d let me do all the talking and sulk, even though you know that I know that you’re not really angry.»

«That  _was_ part of the plan, at first, but then you insisted on teaching me!» Keith laughs, and Shiro smiles.

They fall into comfortable silence once again, and Shiro lets Keith wash his hair, his fingers gentle and soft against his scalp, pushing little strands back and kissing his forehead once again. 

«Tell me about the first time we met» Shiro murmurs, and Keith tilts his head to the side to let him kiss his neck. «Do you mean the first time we actually _met_ , as in “we saw each other for the first time in the middle of the street”, or the first time you found the courage to come up to me and talk?»

Shiro hums against his collarbone and mutters a «I’m not sure that’s how it went,» that makes Keith smile.

He raises his hands and curls his fingers into Shiro’s hair, caressing it. 

«I wasn’t really interested in you, back then» he murmurs, looking up at the ceiling. 

Shiro kisses his chin and Keith chuckles, tugging at his hair. «It’s true. I knew about you,  _everyone did_. The Golden Boy of the University… I hated you. You shone too bright to be real. But you… you would always look at me when you thought I was distracted and your face would light up like you’d seen the sun. Matt used to joke so much about it -  _little Takashi’s baby crush_. God, you always got so flustered…»

Shiro smiles sheepishly against his Adam’s apple, his hand sliding from between Keith’s shoulder blades to his hip, holding him steady. «How did I approach you?»

«Like an idiot.»

Shiro bites his neck and Keith laughs, trying to move away, but Shiro’s hold is like steel on his hip, holding him close. «I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But you were kinda dumb, I mean,  _you almost slipped on thin air_ , in the middle of the canteen. All to ask if you could draw me.»

«And did you accept?» Shiro kisses his chin again and Keith lowers his head to look at him, eyes bright and intense. «I didn’t» he replies, and when Shiro pouts he caresses his hair, pushing it back. «I was too… taken aback. I wasn’t expecting it, out of all things you could have asked. So I didn’t. But the next day you came to me and asked if I wanted to have lunch with you and Matt. And I accepted.»

Shiro smiles and he caresses his back, tilting his head back to kiss him. 

«Tell me about our first date» he whispers, while Keith takes his face between his hands. 

«You asked me out on a Friday. You wanted to spend the weekend with me, you brought me home. You brought me here. You painted me for hours… it was as if you didn’t want to stop.»

«Did I kiss you?»

«Not that day, no. You waited a long time… you said you wanted to wait for the right time.»

Keith caresses his cheekbones, looking at him with amazed eyes and moving a strand of wet hair from his face. «You made me wait so long… I started to think that I had imagined everything. That I was nothing more than a model, an inspiration for your drawings and paintings. I started to think that, at the moment I started to develop feelings for you, you’d have already gotten tired of me.»

Shiro pressed his face against his hands and turned his head to kiss his fingers, his own hand tracing his hip, and Keith trembled, touching their foreheads together. 

«But then one day you asked me something new. You asked me if you could paint me without clothes. And I said yes.»

«Ah,» Shiro smiles and tilts his head back, letting Keith kiss his closed eyelids. «I think I remember that. You laying in my bed with just a sheet covering you…»

Keith smiles against his forehead, his eyes half lidded and cheeks pink. «You helped me fix it. Your hands were so gentle, as you fixed the sheet on me, as you moved me around looking for the perfect angle.»

«You were so beautiful…»

Shiro raises his hand and sinks his fingers in Keith’s hair, bringing him down to his lips to kiss him. Keith sighs in the kiss and presses their bodies together, their chests flushed. 

«You kissed me just like this» he pants, his lips parting as Shiro kisses his chin, then his neck. Shiro looks up and Keith’s eyes meet his, dark and wanting. His hands caress his nape, his hair, and he kisses him again, deep and sweet. Shiro smiles in the kiss, his hand curling in Keith’s hair.

Keith breathes against his mouth and curls on himself, pressing his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder. «Please…» he whispers against his collarbone. Shiro presses his lips against his temple and caresses his back, and finds him warm, so warm.

He’s burning, and he trembles in Shiro’s hold. 

«Please, Shiro…» he says again, and arches against his hand. «I need you. Please…»

«I’m here, Keith.»

Keith presses his face against his neck, holding back a whine. Shiro touches him under the water and Keith tenses, breathing hard. «Shiro…»

«I’ve got you, baby. I’m here.»

«Shiro…» Keith sobs and circles his neck with his arms, trembling against his chest. 

«I love you» he whines, and Shiro kisses his cheek when Keith arches his back again. 

«I love you too. I’m here, baby.»

Keith nods and hugs him closer, tears running down his face. 

«Don’t leave me. Please, Takashi…»

«I won’t. I’m not leaving you. I love you.»

Shiro moves his hand around Keith and kisses his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. 

Then Keith lowers his head and holds his face, his eyes two thin, purple lights, his lips parted. «Kiss me,» he begs, his forehead pressed against Shiro’s.

Shiro kisses him, and loses himself in Keith’s pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yell with me on [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/petitkeef) and [Tumblr](https://petitkeef.tumblr.com)!! ^^


	5. Chapter 5

«I’m still convinced that this is not a good idea. Actually, it’s a terrible idea.»

«Good thing your ideas always suck, or we wouldn’t be able to go.»

Keith crosses his arms and Shiro circles his shoulders with an arm, smiling sympathetically. «C’mon, the sea might not be that bad of a plan» he murmurs in his ear, and Keith turns his head to look at him. «Last time we went, Lance drank so much he started flirting with a palm tree and Hunk almost drowned» he replies, and Shiro grins sheepishly. 

«Maybe there won’t be any drowning this time. Or alcohol.»

«Then why did Lance make me bring these?» Pidge asks boredly, taking two bottles of vodka from her bag. Shiro pales, and Keith huffs pointing a finger at Lance. 

«This time, I’ll let you and your boyfriend drown» he warns, and Lance tucks his tongue out, grinning. «Sure thing, Keef. C’mon now, do you have everything?»

«I think so?» Shiro mutters checking the list in his hand, trying to decipher Keith’s messy handwriting. «Yeah, we do.»

«Sweet,» Lance grins showing all of his teeth. 

«Jump in then. Hunk’s driving for the first two hours.»

Pidge climbs into the backseat, pressed against the door and running through the old photos in her camera. Shiro follows her and Keith takes the remaining place against the other door, while Lance sits in the passenger seat.

Shiro likes the way Hunk drives. It’s calm, not rushed, and he actually respects all the stop signs and the road signage. Lance puts some playlist on and spends half of the time in the car singing at the top of his lungs, ignoring Pidge’s kicks to his seat. -«Stop doing that Pidge, I cleaned the car yesterday!» Hunk begs after a while, and she gives up.-

Shiro tries to look outside the window, straining his neck because of his disadvantaged position in the middle. Luckily both Pidge and Keith are on the short side, so it’s not that difficult to see.

The sun is bright in the sky, and there are just a few clouds tinging its soft blue color. 

In the fields by the road Shiro sees animals, sometimes sheep, then a few hundred meters away a herd of bulls. Then, again sheep and an old German Shepherd guarding from its high position atop of a hill. And horses, running freely in a big field, far from houses and farms, neighing happily and shaking their dark manes in the wind.

«Do you think they’re wild?» Shiro asks, turning on his seat as much as possible to have a last memory of the two equines, still in awe. Keith raises his head and looks back, but the horses are long gone. «I don’t know. They could’ve escaped from some farm.»

«They’re beautiful» Shiro murmurs, sitting straight once again. Keith smiles weakly and curls against the door, holding his legs close to his chest. He’s been silent for the whole trip, too silent, even for him. Worried, Shiro places a hand onto his calf and feels him tremble.

«Keith…»

Keith raises his head and bites his lip, looking away. His grip on his legs tightens, and Shiro feels his muscles shift under his fingers, almost trying to run away from his touch.

Pidge’s listening to her music, headphones in and eyes closed. Lance seems to have fallen asleep, while Hunk is focused on driving. Carefully, Shiro slides his hand over Keith’s and squeezes, leaning to kiss his knee. «Are you okay?» he murmurs worried.

Keith looks at him and grips his hand, his own fingers trembling. 

«Are you?» he murmurs back. «Here inside the car… are you okay?»

Ah, that was the problem. Shiro smiles and lies his head atop of Keith’s knee, caressing his calf with the tip of his fingers. «I’m with you» he says simply, and Keith’s frown weakens. 

«It’s a long trip» he murmurs, and Shiro shakes his head. 

«I’m okay as long as you’re here with me.»

That makes Keith smile a little bit. «You’re so silly» he sighs, and shakes his head. He cradles Shiro’s hand between his and brings it to his lips, kissing every knuckle.

Shiro smiles and caresses his hair, twisting a dark strand between his fingers. «Try to sleep, I know you’ve been awake all night. I could feel you moving around. We still got a few hours of travel before we reach the ocean.»

Keith sighs and lowers his head, he looks at him shyly. «Will you be fine?»

«I’m not going anywhere,» Shiro laughs under his breath, and kisses his forehead. 

«Rest. I’ll be the one to wake you up when we’re there.»

Keith sighs again but then, convinced, he surrenders. He doesn’t quite cuddle against Shiro, but he does place his legs atop of Shiro’s thighs. «If you’re uncomfortable just push them off» he mutters, leaning his head against the windowpane. Shiro grins. «I’ll push them as hard as I can.»

Keith snorts and rolls his eyes. Then he closes them, and he rests.

 

He’s woken up hours later, by a soft touch against his thigh and a kiss on his brow. 

Keith whines and turns his head, curling his hands in Shiro’s shirt. Somehow he’s turned around in the car, ending with his head onto Shiro’s lap and legs abandoned onto the seat. 

He feels Shiro’s chest rumble in a laugh, and a hand roughly caresses his hair, untangling the knots left by the small ponytail he’d made. «Keith, we’re here.»

Keith grumbles again and finally raises his head, cracking an eye open. When he does, he lets out a laugh that’s more of a wheeze, still sleepy and groggy. «What the fuck happened to your hair.»

Shiro’s hair is a mess. It sticks out everywhere, like he’d put his head inside a tornado. 

Keith raises a hand and pats that dark messy bundle of strands, still giggling. Shiro groans and pushes his hand away, pinching his nose. «Oh c’mon, it’s not my fault! I got stuck between the seat and the headrest and I couldn’t really move because of you, I had to find a way!»

«Should’ve pushed my legs off» Keith jokes, and kisses his forehead before walking outside of the car. Shiro shakes his head and grins, following him. 

He finds Keith stretching, his arms above his head and lips parted in the shadow of a yawn. Pidge next to him is rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, music still blasting from the headphones around her neck, while Lance is over excited as only he could be after a four-hours-long trip.

«The last one is a Bigfoot!» he yells, running to the sea in a tornado of beach umbrellas, flip-flops and his horrible neon orange swimsuit.

«Nerd,» Pidge huffs following him. Hunk grins, but his smile quickly falters when he sees Lance throwing all of his stuff to the side to get into the water. «Lance, wait! We still gotta check-in at the chalets and-  _wait don't leave everything unsupervised like that_!»

«Poor Hunk,» Keith snorts reaching for Shiro’s hand. He takes it with a goofy smile, wiggling his fingers in the hold. «We should probably go before he has an aneurysm.»

Keith cackles and shakes his head. They don't run, admiring everything they can touch with their gazes. Shiro is beaming, he looks at the white sand and the lines of umbrellas, and the ocean that goes as far as the eyes can see.

Keith follows his gaze and smiles, squeezing his hand. 

«Do you like it?» he asks, and Shiro turns to him with awe in his clear eyes, just like a child seeing the beach for the first time. «It’s beautiful.»

Keith leans towards him and kisses him on the mouth, fast, but oh so sweet. 

It lingers on Shiro’s lips for a few seconds, and he tries to preserve it as much as he can.

When they finally reach the others, Lance is already dripping wet, his hair pushed back as he helps Hunk with the chairs and the umbrellas. Pidge is hidden under one of them, getting the sun cream out of her bag.

«If Lance, or anyone else for that matter, gets water on my glasses, I’m ready to kill» she warns, slapping a handful of cream onto her arm.

Lance squawks indignantly, crossing his arms. «I would  _not_!»

«You did last time,» Pidge retorts, shooting daggers with her eyes. «It’s not an experience I want to repeat. I had to change the lenses because they were all scratched by the sand after  _you_  pushed me.»

Lance rolls his eyes and mutters a «Whatever», then he turns and when he sees that Hunk is done with the last umbrella, he runs to the sea and jumps in the water with a yell.

«He always has to have everyone’s attention on him, doesn't he?» Keith says dryly, and Hunk smiles at him. «You know him. He loves the sea.»

«Oh, I know very well» Keith mutters, taking the sun cream from his backpack. 

Shiro smiles, gently slapping his side. Keith pokes his tongue out at him, and Shiro has to resist the urge to kiss him.

Pidge is done with her cream, covered in a layer so thick she looks even paler than before. Hunk, bless his dark skin, is already in the water next to Lance. At the first given occasion, Lance jumps over his shoulders and leans forward, kissing his forehead with a laugh.

Shiro sits on a chair and smiles looking at them, and then he moves his gaze to Keith. 

Keith, who’s beautiful and quiet, putting suncream on with slow and careful movements of his hands, his lips slightly puffed and curled in a smile. Keith, with his pale back, long neck and dark hair, that make Shiro lose his breath.

Keith turns when Shiro has not diverted his gaze yet, and smiles softly at him. «Can you help me put some on my back?» he asks, raising the cream tube. 

Shiro blinks and nods, unable to talk, and Keith shifts closer to him. Shiro carefully places him onto his legs and looks at him over his shoulder, cheeks pink. Then he smiles, and Shiro’s heart melts.

«Give me that» he murmurs, pointing at the tube of cream still between his small hands. Keith obeys and Shiro kisses his shoulder; his skin already smells like the sea. 

Carefully, Shiro squeezes some cream onto Keith’s back and passes his palm across it, rubbing it onto the soft skin.

It always amazes him how pale Keith is. 

Shiro rests his hand against the small of Keith’s back and keeps it there, feeling the warmth spreading to his palm, up his arm and right to his heart, sensing the life running under the skin.

It feels right, his hand there. It feels like it belongs there, and Shiro smiles.

Keith is beautiful, and his. The thought makes his heart swell with pride and love.

Sensing something is running through his head, Keith turns and looks at him, placing a hand against his neck. «Are you okay?» he asks, worried. Shiro’s smile grows fonder, sweeter, and he turns his head to kiss his palm. «I was just admiring you» he says, and then «You’re beautiful.»

Warmth spreads across Keith’s cheeks and he hides behind his bangs, smiling softly. «Shut up...»

«It’s true» Shiro replies, and holds his hip steadier, curving against him until his shirt is pressed against Keith’s back. Keith still looks at him hesitantly, his hand caressing his nape and teeth toying with his lower lip, then he presses his forehead against his. 

«You too» he replies smiling shyly.

Shiro grins and pecks his lips, caressing his hip. 

«C’mon now, I still have to put cream on» he murmurs. «You can reach the others if you want.»

Keith shakes his head. «I’ll wait for you. I can help you if you want, you don’t have your prosthetic right?»

Shiro chuckles. «That’s actually a good plan.»

And so Keith helps him put the cream on, leaning towards him every now and then to peck him on the lips. Keith spreads a long streak of cream across the bridge of his nose and kisses him full and pliant, his fingers curling on the back of Shiro’s neck.

They probably look ridiculous, and they can hear Lance’s howls and Pidge’s coarse laugh in the background, but they couldn’t care less. For a few minutes, it’s just the two of them, sitting on a chair under an umbrella, with the noise and the smell of the ocean filling their senses.

Keith giggles against Shiro’s lips and moves away, rubbing the last remnants of cream across his face. «I think we’re done» he says, and Shiro smiles. The sun surrounds Keith’s head like a halo, and he’s never looked so beautiful, so precious and rare. 

«We should reach the others now, or we’ll never hear the end of it» he says then, glancing over his shoulders. Pidge and Lance tuck their tongues out, and Keith flips them off.

Shiro laughs and lowers his hand, kissing his fingertips. 

«Stop that. C‘mon, before we get dragged into the water. I don’t think it would be really nice.»

Keith snorts, standing up and holding his hand. «Definitely not.»

Lance splashes them once they’re close enough, and Keith yells, splashing him back. 

«Fuck you Lance, it’s freezing.»

«That’s what you get for the bed eyes you’ve been doing to each other for the last ten minutes» Lance retorts. Keith jumps on him and pushes him into the water, laughing when Lance starts screaming bloody murder.

«You tried to kill me!» he splutters, pushing his hair away from his forehead and spitting water. Keith snorts and hides behind Shiro. «If I really wanted to, Hunk would’ve stopped me» he says, and Hunk smiles. «Hmm, not sure about that.»

Lance looks at him betrayed, then at Shiro and Keith, still grinning. 

With an indignant huff he stands and points a finger at Keith. «I challenge you to a chicken fight» he says. Keith’s eyes shine, and he leans against Shiro’s shoulder. 

«Oh? Are you sure you’re gonna win?»

«One hundred percent sure» Lance replies, resting his elbow onto Hunk’s shoulder. 

Keith bares his teeth. «If my memory doesn’t fail me, every single time we had a chicken fight it was me and Shiro who won.»

«You would splash Hunk in the face!»

«And you would  _kick Shiro_! You see how disloyal you are?»

Lance gasps. «Oh, now it’s on.  _Now it’s on._ »

Keith grins and turns to Shiro, caressing his arm. «Are you ready for this match?»

Shiro grins back and cups his nape, turning to look at Lance and Hunk. «Oh, I so am.»

 

In the end it’s Keith and Shiro who win. Lance tries to argue with Pidge, saying that her judgement was blinded by her wet glasses -«I see  _worse_ , Lance, I’m not  _blind_!»-, and Keith celebrates by having him buy ice cream for everyone.

He rests under the umbrella after the fight, too tired and cold to do anything else. Despite summer approaching at a fast rhythm, the air is still sharp and tingly on his skin, causing goosebumps and shivers. So he decides to call it a day and wrap himself into his beach towel, legs close to his chest and face hidden against his knees.

But Shiro, he doesn’t rest. Keith observes him as he swims, as he gets used to the water and the salt. He watches him as he looks at the few children running in the water along the shore. He watches him as he pushes his wet hair from his forehead and raises his head to the sky, smiling at the sun and the wind, and he’s so beautiful it hurts.

Shiro turns and smiles at him, and the whole world seems to lighten up.

«You’re so enchanted» Pidge murmurs, poking his foot with her toe.

No, Keith thinks. He’s in love. And there’s no other place he’d rather be.

 

The beach is not big, only a dozen meters of sand between the water and the walls of the resort. There used to be more of the seaside a few years ago, Lance tells Shiro when they both leave the water; but the ocean is an unstoppable force, and ended up devouring meter after meter of sand.

That’s what the ocean is, Shiro thinks looking at the horizon, where the sun is starting to set, painting the sky in orange and pink and violet hues; just a graveyard of sand, and crumbled rocks, swallowing everything in its way.

And yet, there is life and beauty underneath.

Shiro diverts his gaze and looks at Keith, crouched by the shore looking for shells with Pidge. Keith raises his head and says something to her, which causes her to squawk and push him into the water, making Keith laugh, his whole face lighting up.

Shiro smiles and lowers his gaze. 

Keith’s smiles are so big, so honest and clear, it sometimes feel like he’s intruding.

«Sometimes staying next to you two is tiring» Lance comments, eating on a handful of chips. Hunk has passed out next to him, snoring softly. 

Shiro turns his head and arches a brow, confused and mildly offended. «Pardon?»

«I meant,» Lance shakes his hand in mid-air, pointing at him first and then at Keith. «You’re just so in love with each other… sometimes it’s overwhelming, you know? We look at you two and it’s weird, because you were never like this.»

Shiro furrows his forehead. «We weren’t? What do you mean?»

Lance smacks his lips together, wrinkling his nose. «How can I explain it… before, before the accident and all this happened, you weren’t so lovey-dovey. You were in love and all of that stuff, that’s obvious!» he exclaims, raising his hands when Shiro opens his mouth to reply. 

«You were in love, so madly in love that when you argued we would know even without you having to say it. It’s just… Keith wasn’t so touchy-feely, and nor were you, at least when you were hanging out with others. You… kept some sort of personal space - which wasn’t that big, that I must concede -, but I mean, Keith used to annoy me all the time because I would snuggle with Hunk during a movie. Now it’s you two, the snuggly ones.»

Shiro hums and diverts his gaze, turning back to look at Keith. 

«Is it a bad thing?» he asks in a low voice, watching as Pidge tries to climb onto Keith’s shoulders and fails, making them both fall into the water.

Lance shakes his head and sighs, following his gaze. 

«I wouldn’t say so. No, it definitely isn’t. You probably don’t remember, but… Keith was a wreck after the accident. I remember he called me in the middle of the night, screaming and crying because you were at the hospital, he was at the hospital and he didn’t know if you would make it. He was hysterical, Shiro, I had never heard or seen him like that. He sounded broken - and he was.»

Lance takes an iced green tea from their thermal bag and drinks a long sip, eyes distant and the sunset reflected into his blue irises. «You were dead for a couple of minutes. The doctors had to bring you back. The face Keith made when they told him… I’ll never forget it. For a second, we all thought we had lost not only you, but him as well. He was...»

Shiro thinks about Keith’s tear-stained face when he’d woken up and couldn’t remember a thing, and the pain he could see in his eyes, in the hard lines of his jaw and lips and in the resigned, hunched position he would always take. 

«I remember how he was» he mutters, lowering his gaze.

Lance hums and takes a sip from his drink. When he puts down the thermos he looks pensive, more mature than usual. «He looks so much more happy now than he’s ever looked» he murmurs. «It’s like… almost losing you has made him more open. He  _wants_ to love people, and he  _wants_  others to know it. I don’t know what else awaits you two, what… remnants and reminders your accident will leave behind, but Shiro, you managed to make Keith feel like he was worthy of love and of loving, not once but twice, the second time while not remembering who you were, and nothing will change that.»

Shiro doesn’t reply, and he has to lower his head to hide the emotions flowing across his face. 

It’s too much, he thinks, covering his face with his hand and breathing slowly through his fingers. It’s too much love, and it swallows him whole, in a bubble of warmth.

He doesn’t deserve it.

«Hey, Shiro?»

Shiro raises his head and sees Keith’s face, close to his. 

Keith is crouched in front of him, a hand lingering above Shiro’s thigh and head tilted to a side, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. Against his stomach, a small net filled with colourful stones and shells. «Are you okay?» he asks, caressing his knee. Shiro smiles and nods, placing his hand over Keith’s. «I’m fine, don’t worry. I was just… lost in my thoughts.»

Keith doesn’t look convinced, but he smiles nonetheless, squeezing Shiro’s hand. 

«I wanted to show you a place. Do you want to go?»

«Sure,» Shiro smiles and squeezes his hand back, standing. 

Keith beams, dragging him along the river.

Lance smiles, and lies back onto his towel, enjoying the last rays of light.

 

 __❋❋❋

 

The beach is empty several meters ahead from their location, it’s just the sand and the rocks and the rare, small animals of the ocean returning to their homes. And the two of them, walking with their feet sinking in the soft wet sand, and waves caressing their ankles.

Only them, in that world bathed in the golden rays of the dying sun.

Keith swings their connected hands between them, smiling happily. 

His gaze touches the ocean where it joins the sky, and Shiro wants nothing more than to kiss him. «Where are you taking me?» he asks then, nudging him jokingly. 

Keith laughs and pushes him back, his eyes shining in the amber light of the sunset. 

«You’ll see. We’re almost there anyways.»

«Oh, are we?»

Shiro looks around, his brows furrowed as he looks for whatever Keith wants to show him. In the end his gaze falls upon a black rock, large enough to cover half of the beach where it shrinks to only a few meters. Keith follows his eyes and smiles, squeezing Shiro’s hand. «Yup. That’s it.»

They reach the rock and Shiro untangles his hand from Keith’s hold to place it onto the warm surface. It’s smooth, shining in the evening light. Shiro is sure he can feel its energy under his fingers, the power of nature running through his veins from the dark surface. 

He moves his hand away, still astonished.

Keith circles his neck with his arms and leans against his back, a warm weight. 

«It’s obsidian» he murmurs against Shiro’s nape, his lips brushing against his skin. 

«There used to be a volcano here, centuries ago. One day its crater got clogged, there was an eruption… the crater collapsed onto itself, but this obsidian remained… untouched by the salt, and the waves.»

Shiro smiles and turns his head, meeting Keith’s shining eyes. 

«Kinda sounds like us» he whispers, and Keith smiles, pupils bright. «It does.»

Shiro turns and kisses him, cradling Keith’s head in his hand.

They lie down next to the rock, bellies up, looking at the sky, Shiro’s arm supporting Keith’s head and his fingers drawing small circles onto his shoulder. Keith sighs and snuggles against his chest, hand over Shiro’s beating heart. Shiro kisses his hair and Keith smiles, closing his eyes. 

«You’re warm...» he murmurs.

Shiro gently squeezes his shoulder and lets his hand slide to Keith’s hip. 

«Thank you, for taking me here» he whispers against his forehead.

Keith pokes his rib, thoughtful. «We would always come here, during holidays» he says, letting his fingers slide across Shiro’s chest. «We’d tell the others that we’d go and get something to eat, and then we’d remain here for hours, hidden from the world.»

Keith laughs, and he’s beautiful in that unique way he is. 

«After a while the others understood that they’d never get what we supposedly went to buy. We’d come back to them eating in our face, looking at us with disappointment.»

Shiro laughs and presses his lips to his hair. 

«Okay,  _that_  does sound like us. Even more than this obsidian.»

Keith smiles. «Yes it does.»

Keith’s still holding the net of shells in one of his hands. Shiro sits and carefully takes it, placing each small shell, each stone, onto Keith’s chest. He smiles, looking at him with loving eyes. «Don’t lose them,» he warns him, caressing his thigh. «It took Pidge and I hours to get them. They were the most beautiful ones.»

«They are,» Shiro admits, caressing the dark surface of a mussel shell, polished by the salt and the waves. He places it atop Keith’s heart together with its identical twin, a small, dark heart of the ocean. Keith holds his hand in his and kisses his knuckles. 

«We made love for the first time, here» he murmurs then, leaning his head back against the sand. Shiro’s heart leaps in his chest at those words, and he slowly reaches to place a white shell onto Keith’s Adam apple, caressing his long neck with the tip of his fingers. 

«Yeah?» he asks in a whisper, smiling softly.

Keith nods and laughs, closing his eyes. «It was a mess. I had never done anything before, and you were so scared… scared to touch me, to hurt me. There was sand everywhere...»

Shiro laughs and leans to touch their foreheads together, Keith’s hands rising to caress his face, his nape.

He’s beautiful.

He’s soft, and smiling, and his skin glows under the fading light of the day.

Shiro is so in love.

«How did we do it?» he asks against his mouth, his hand caressing Keith’s chest, pushing shells and stones aside.

Keith sighs and parts his legs, welcoming him against his chest, and Shiro feels like  _that_ is his place. Keith’s fingers curl in Shiro’s hair when he leans to kiss his jaw, his neck. 

«We did it like this,» he breathes, and Shiro kisses his chin, making him smile. 

«You were above me like this… fuck, you were like a God. I would’ve worshipped you like one, if only you’d asked. Kissed the land you walked on, if you wanted me to...»

«I’d to the same for you» Shiro murmurs, raising his head. Keith smiles, his eyes soft and dark. He moves his hands to Shiro’s cheeks and caresses his cheekbones, whispering «Come here...»

Shiro does, and Keith kisses him slowly, gently. 

For minutes that seem to last like hours, there is only the two of them.

The sun sets beyond the horizon, its fire quenching in few, last rays of warmth.

Keith holds him closer, he kisses him deeper, and for a single, endless moment, Shiro feels immortal. 

 

❋❋❋

 

They run away from the beach, and reach the reception. 

While Shiro asks for the key to their room, Keith can’t stop but notice that they’ve both left their shoes and shirts with the others, their hair are a sandy mess and they, with their red faces and lips and hands clasped together, are far from innocent-looking.

It’s bold, and Keith’s chest fills with warmth and want only at the thought.

When the receptionist hands over the key, Keith snatches it from his hand and Shiro drags him away, his low laugh rumbling and echoing in Keith’s ears.

He laughs with him, and he feels free.

His laugh soon falters into a breathy moan when Shiro holds him against his chest, back against the closed door of their room, and kisses him full on the lips like that is going to be the last time they kiss.

Keith laughs again against his mouth and brings his hands to Shiro’s hair, ruffling them even more and tugging him forward.

They struggle to move apart, wanting to breathe each other’s hair, feel each other’s warmth onto their skin. While Keith opens the door Shiro kisses his neck, his hand running up and down his flat stomach. The door clicks open, Keith turns to kiss him again, passionate and wet and Shiro holds him close.

A faint gasp is heard from the corridor, and when they raise their gaze they see a woman looking at them, eyes big and lips parted. Shiro smiles, ears and cheeks red, and «Good evening,» he manages to say, before Keith drags him inside their room with a laugh.

Shiro laughs back and bites his lip when Keith pins him against the door, dragging his fingers across his chest. «I think she knows what’s about to happen» Shiro murmurs, tilting his head back against the door, Keith’s teeth grazing his neck.

Keith growls. «Does it bother you?»

«No. Does it bother  _you_?»

Keith looks at him, and there’s fire in his eyes. 

«I want everyone to know I am yours, and you are mine» he murmurs, kissing him fiercely.

Shiro hums against his mouth and kisses him back, fingers intertwining in Keith’s hair, then down, down his neck and arm, caressing his hip. He places his hand against the small of Keith’s back and under his butt, picking him up.

Keith gasps and slips his arms around Shiro’s neck, eyes dark from that simple gesture. 

«God, Shiro...» he mutters, and Shiro grunts kissing his chest. 

Keith holds his face between his hands and kisses him, once, twice. 

Shiro kisses him back and takes him to the bed, placing him onto the thin sheets.

Keith’s fingers scramble onto his nape and down his back, gasping when Shiro lies onto him. He presses his fingers against his sides and tugs at his swim trunks, murmuring «Off, off» against his temple. Shiro takes them off and helps Keith out of his, caressing his lips with a heated kiss.

Then he parts, and when he opens his eyes he  _sees_ him. Keith laid against the mattress, legs parted to welcome him, his pale body flushed from the arousal and the sun. 

Shiro can still taste it onto his skin, feel warmth leave his skin. 

When he leans to kiss his forehead, he tastes salt.

«You taste like the ocean,» he tells him, and Keith smiles, open and beautiful.

Shiro lets his fingers travel down the length of Keith’s neck, and watches in awe as he trembles and tilts his head back against the pillow, eyes closing. Shiro’s fingers travel down, down, and the more he touches, the more Keith shivers and his body moves against Shiro’s in slow, measured waves.

Shiro leans and kisses Keith’s chest, and the way he gasps and holds his breath is pure, soft. When Shiro raises his head he sees Keith’s utter love for him in his eyes, in the flush of his cheeks. His hands reach for him and they tremble when Keith caresses his face, trying to imprint every curve, every trait, into his mind.

«You’re beautiful» he murmurs, and Shiro kisses him slowly, cradling his head in his hand.

Shiro loves every part of his body. Each limb, each finger, each birthmark, he takes and covers in kisses. Keith’s body is a temple, and Shiro rediscovers and worships it little by little, pressing his lips against his calf, down to his knee and thigh, kissing his hips and smiling when Keith sinks his fingers into his hair. «Shiro… Takashi, Takashi please...» he whispers, his chest heaving with each intake of breath, each soft touch and kiss.

Keith’s hands are warm. 

Shiro sighs and leans his head forward against the pillow when his small hands touch him, careful and gentle. Keith leans and kisses his chest, pressing his forehead against his shoulder. 

«I wanna make love to you» he whispers, and Shiro smiles, kissing his hair. Keith pants and grinds against him, raising teary eyes to his face. «Please, Takashi...»

«I’m here, Keith» Shiro kisses his knee and places his leg onto his shoulder, hand running down Keith’s thigh, and Keith pulls him closer with his other leg, whining when their bodies touch again and again.

«I love you...»

«I love you too.»

«Please, touch me...»

And Shiro does. He watches as Keith arches against the bedsheets, his lips moving around his name in a soft moan, and his eyes open and on him. Shiro leans and kisses his stomach, and feels fire rumbling within.

He’s beautiful. Shiro repeats it in his head over and over, kissing his knee once again, kissing his thigh. He tastes him and his warmth and Keith gasps, throwing back his head and foot twitching over Shiro’s shoulder.

He still can’t believe he gets to call him his, and the thought leaves him euphoric.

Keith grabs his hair and stops him before it’s too late, before he falls, his chest panting. 

Shiro moves and kisses his temple, waiting; Keith pushes his fringe back from his forehead and caresses his face. They kiss slowly, and soon Keith is above Shiro, straddling his hips. 

His face is flushed and his eyes dark. His messy hair frames his fine traits like a halo, and Shiro wishes to worship him.

And he does, worship him. He holds him close and cradles his face in his hand, Keith’s lips caressing his palm while his eyes close, holding his wrist like it’s something precious.

He’s beautiful, and he’s his.

«Takashi...»

Keith pants his name and Shiro covers his mouth with his, softly. Keith whines and pulls him closer, his fingers sinking in Shiro’s hair, tugging, his whole body trembling above him. 

Shiro caresses the shivering line of his spine and feel him arching against his palm, until he reaches the soft curve of his butt. Keith breathes through his teeth and whines, fingers scrambling to hold onto something, onto him. «Please...»

«I’m here Keith, I’m here.»

«Takashi...»

Shiro kisses him on his neck and caresses his back. For the first time since he’s in that room, he feels like his heart is about to explode in his chest. Keith is warm under his fingers, he still tastes like the ocean and love and trust, he’s transparent and open like he’s never been and Shiro feels unworthy.

It’s a wave that comes and goes, and if he lingers too long he fears he’ll drown.

So he cups Keith’s face and brings him to his mouth, kissing him as sweetly and passionately as he knows. «Teach me how,» he murmurs, and Keith’s eyes glimmer like stars.

He’s slow, Keith. Shiro remembers the fire he’d seen in him since the first day, its flames shining behind Keith’s eyes when he’d kissed him on the beach, and he keeps feeling it under his hand, within Keith’s stomach as he moves above him, against his fingers; his head thrown back and his long, pale neck exposed, his thin fingers curled atop of Shiro’s thighs.

 _Gorgeous_ , Shiro thinks, and steads his hand onto Keith’s hip, feeling him warm against his belly.

Keith’s eyes fall onto him, teary and dark, his fingers caressing Shiro’s face when he sits. «What’s wrong,» he murmurs. Shiro shakes his head and smiles. «I want to feel you.»

Keith gently curls his hands into his hair and kisses him with lips parted, panting against his mouth, and slowly, the fire burning inside of him spreads to Shiro’s body, wrapping him in warmth, and he feels  _good_. For the first time in what he feels is forever, he feels complete.

Keith circles his waist with his legs and Shiro touches him where he’s warmer, feeling him arch against him. He calls his name again.

Shiro comes with his lips pressed to Keith’s heart.

 

❋❋❋

 

«You were a star,» Keith murmurs against Shiro’s chest, his arm draped across his tummy. 

Shiro caresses his arm and kisses the shoulder closest to him, his lips lingering onto the warmth of his skin. He still tastes like the sun, like the ocean and the marine breeze. 

Then Keith shivers, and he hugs him closer.

«Was I?» Shiro asks against his hair, and feels Keith nod. 

«There was no way you were real. That’s the first thing I thought. You, so bright against the sun setting, your hands caressing me… it felt like a dream.»

«You dreamt about me making love to you?» Shiro asks with a small grin, and Keith slaps his chest huffing. «Duh. Of course I did. But it wasn’t the same. It felt different.»

«Mh? How so?»

Keith smiles and pushes himself up, straddling his hips once again. 

There’s that light in his eyes, that makes Shiro smile and caress where Keith’s waist meets his right leg, thumb dipping lower, lower…

«In my dreams you were always this cool, macho version of you» Keith murmurs, dragging his fingers across Shiro’s chest and smiling when goosebumps form under his touch. 

«I always imagined you as someone who would take me so hard and passionately I would forget my name. I dreamt your hands wrapped around my wrists, and your voice… God, you have no idea how it sounded in my head. You’d laugh or be horrified by my mental image of you at the time.»

Shiro laughs and takes his hand in his, kissing Keith’s fingertips. 

«And how was I in real life? Was it disappointing?»

Keith smiles and shakes his head, placing his hand above Shiro’s heart. 

«You did take my breath away. But you didn't do it with strength or power. There was nothing rough in you. You took care of me, asking me how each touch felt, asking me what I wanted, covering my body with kisses when you knew it hurt. You took me and cradled me with so much care and love, like I hadn't felt since my father was alive. You made me feel like I was worthy. Like I deserved all of that.»

Shiro kisses his knuckles and smiles sadly. «You’re worthy of all my love and more» he murmurs, and Keith smiles, curling once again against his side. His hand interlaces with Shiro’s, and he caresses the back of his hand with his thumb.

«And then,» Keith goes on, his lips touching Shiro’s collarbone, «Then you helped me clean up and kissed me again. Over and over. When you were done, I felt like my body was on fire. And the next day, while I was sleeping, you went and bought me flowers. I woke up with flowers between my hair, in my hands, around me… and you were there, drawing me, like it was something you did everyday.»

«Forget-me-nots...» Shiro whispers, and Keith looks up at him. 

«They were forget-me-nots, right? I remember them… I remember  _you._  You were beautiful.»

Keith kisses him and Shiro raises his arm to caress his hair. When they part, Keith’s eyes are shiny with tears. «They were. They were a promise you made me. That as long as I had forget-me-nots on me, you would not forget me. I had them sewn onto a handkerchief, so that I could always have them with me.»

«I know.»

«When you woke up and couldn’t remember me… I felt like a fool.»

Keith smiles and it’s bitter, trying to hold back his tears. 

«I remember coming to the hospital with my handkerchief and thinking “oh, this is going to help him remember.” I remember coming back home with a broken heart and you still not knowing who I was, and it hurt so much.»

«That doesn’t matter anymore» Shiro whispers, against his forehead. «I’m here.»

Keith smiles and this time it’s sweet, soft. Shiro can’t resist him.

He kisses him again, and feels tears running down Keith’s face. He gently wipes them, and cradles his face in his hand. «Keith, I kept my promise» he whispers against his mouth. «I remember you now.»

Keith chuckles and leans against him, their legs intertwining under the thin bedsheet. 

«You sure made me wait.»

«I did,» Shiro replies, pressing their foreheads together. «But I’m not going anywhere.»

 

❋❋❋

 

He wakes up as soon as the sun rises, golden light washing over his body. Keith is curled up against his side, his small chest rising and falling as he breathes, long eyelashes casting shadows over his cheekbones.

He’s beautiful and bright, and he’s a sun.

Shiro smiles and kisses his forehead, feeling Keith hum his name against his neck.

He’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was it! I hope this story was as fun to read as it was to write! Please leave a comment or send me a dm through my social media if you liked it and want to tell me about what it made you feel!
> 
> Yell with me on [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/petitkeef) and [Tumblr](https://petitkeef.tumblr.com)!! ^^

**Author's Note:**

> Yell with me on [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/petitkeef) and [Tumblr](https://petitkeef.tumblr.com)!! ^^


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